Eventfully Ever After
by Silverlake
Summary: The Penelope and Dalton chronicles continue...featuring Jeck and Selena and forcing Neal to bestow life advice. The epilogue is up and the offspring are a handful!
1. Chapter 1

_Hello dear readers! Welcome to Eventfully Ever After—the continued chronicles of Penelope and Dalton (and Neal, and Kel, and Dom, and Wyldon, and Selena and Jeck, and Rissa and Vina…). There will be blood (and tears, and sweat, and kisses, and laughter, and sarcasm…) in just about every episode. The location and certain key characters belong to Tamora Pierce. This chapter begins a few weeks after the last episode of Love and Money—so a few weeks after the midwinter during which Selena was knighted. Enjoy! _

"Lady knight," a voice called just as Penelope was leaving the practice court. "I'd like a word."

Penelope turned to find Gregory trotting up behind her. "Very well," she muttered.

"You're looking well," he began.

Penelope chose not to reply.

"Listen," he continued. "I know we haven't…encountered one another for months, but I had a lot of time to think since that night at the border—when we got knocked in the frozen river. I've grown more open minded."

Penelope frowned, hoping to discourage the distasteful proposition that seemed imminent.

"I'd like to apologize," he said quickly, surprising her, "and to thank you for lying that night—about why we were distracted."

"Was that your full expression of regret and gratitude?" Penelope shrugged into her cloak. "Or do you plan to give me forewarning before every utterance?" It was the sort of thing Neal might have said, but she hadn't seen Gregory since her squire days and he was bringing back memories. "If so, please don't. My husband and squires will be waiting."

"Husband?" It was his turn to raise an eyebrow.

"Dalton."

"Oh," he said. "You never were particularly receptive to anyone el—"

"I've never been particularly interested in anyone else," Penelope hissed.

"Well." Gregory apparently didn't care for metaphorical thin ice any more than he had cared for the real thing. "Congratulations." He seemed to mean it. "And you've taken a squire—must have been a busy year for you."

"Two squires," Penelope corrected automatically. "The Lanton twins."

"But aren't they—"

"Girls. Yes, what an observant remark," Penelope snapped.

"I had been going to say identical," Gregory said, "which would have been nearly as unnecessary. But I don't believe we're well suited for casual conversation. I should like—"he smirked just long enough to let her know this was deliberate—"to bid you good day."

"An excellent idea," Penelope nodded her farewell and set off for the room she and Dalton shared.

It was only when Gregory followed her—at, Penelope had to admit, a polite distance—that she realized they had a new neighbor.

PDPD

The twins had left a note pinned to the door. They were with some friends from the Queen's Riders—probably up to something mildly illegal—and would not be back until suppertime. Penelope shrugged and went inside to find Dalton slumped on their bed, gazing lethargically at a recently opened letter.

"Hey," she said, discarding her cloak and boots.

"My father had a stroke," he muttered absently. "It killed him instantly."

Penelope froze.

"Probably not the way he'd have wanted to go, but then no one has much choice in the matter. The funeral's in—" he paused to reread a line and make a few calculations—"three days." He shrugged and let the letter fall from his hand.

"I'm so sorry," Penelope murmured, because she had no idea what else to say. She had no idea what a father was, really, because she'd never had one. Neal had given her a rough idea—but he was also her friend and mentor—like a brother as well, though they shared no blood. And the thought of losing Neal was unbearable, incomprehensible.

Dalton nodded. "Me too."

Penelope crossed the room and stood beside the bed. She bent and kissed him tentatively.

He sighed and scooted over so that she could stretch out beside him. He pulled her close, his arms remaining tense as they settled into their customary spooning arrangement. Penelope traced her fingers soothingly over his knuckles and wondered which of them ought to break the silence.

"I'm sorry mostly because he left behind so many unfinished arguments," Dalton murmured finally. "That sounds terrible."

"They were about me," Penelope said, sounding as guilty and grief-stricken as he felt. "Weren't they?"

"In name only," he said, trying to convince himself as well. "He's—he was hardheaded—like me, only worse in his old age. I was his youngest boy—his last chance at a perfect son. He wanted me to be a priest at one point. We fought over everything. You were just an excuse."

"You'd have visited him if it weren't for me."

"Maybe." Dalton sighed. "I wouldn't have wanted to. It's too late to worry about it now."

Penelope snuggled sympathetically against him. "When do you—"she hesitated—"we"—she turned, shooting him a questioning gaze.

He smiled and kissed her forehead. "My surviving family would love to meet you." His father would not have wanted her at his funeral, but his mother had specifically invited her.

Penelope swallowed. "When do we need to leave for the funeral?"

"Actually, if we got in a few hours travel tonight—"

"I'll go make arrangements for the twins—I think it might be best if they stayed here."

Dalton nodded and kissed her quickly. "I'll pack and meet you at the stables."

PDPD

Selena—as Penelope had expected—was at the smithy, chatting with Jeck and occasionally passing him necessary tools and water buckets. She listened sympathetically as Penelope explained the situation and asked for her help.

" Of course. I'll find them at supper and let them know where you've gone." Selena smiled. "I can tell them apart"—Jeck and Penelope blinked disbelievingly at one another as she said this—"even if Queenscove can't."

"Thanks," Penelope muttered, wondering if she ought to warn Jeck that Selena was mad and deciding that he probably already knew and didn't mind.

PDPD

Neal was examining a page's throat when Penelope arrived in the infirmary, but he stopped after a single glance at Penelope.

"You'll live," he told the boy. "Drink plenty of fruit juice and get to bed early."

"But—"

"If I'm wrong, you'll be the first page ever to die of the fictional sniffles and I will personally write a note excusing you from your morning practice."

The page scowled and disappeared.

"You're here in one, unbloodied piece at fourth bell," Neal observed. "Should I be worried?"

"I have a small favor to ask."

"I thought as much."

"Dalton's father's dead. He has to leave tonight to make it back for the funeral. I'm going with him." She started stacking the dirty teacups on Neal's desk. "To meet his family." She abandoned her stack. "We'd like you to watch the twins—help watch them—

"I—"

"Selena's already said she would too. Just keep them from doing anything tragically stupid. Or comically stupid, for that matter."

"And I suppose you want me to prevent any further snow this winter while I'm at it."

"Just while we're traveling and only if it's not too terribly taxing." Penelope tried to smile.

"The lightest of burdens," Neal assured her. "But you knew I would." He wrapped his fingers over her shoulder. "And at their age, you considered my supervision mostly superfluous. You didn't come here to ask me to help watch your squires."

Penelope's eyes widened. "I just volunteered to meet his family," she hissed. "And I'm the least suitable—they're going to hate me."

Neal shrugged. "Not much they can do about it. You're already married."

"But—"

"But you _want_ them to like you." Neal poked her between the eyes.

"They are _Dalton's_ sisters and brothers and mother." His mother who'd written her to assure her that she trusted Dalton's judgment in marrying her, but the thought of mentioning this made Penelope a little queasy.

"Precisely why you have nothing to worry about," Neal assured her.

"By which you mean everything of course."

"You can't take all the credit." Neal took her shoulders and backed her into a cot so that she was forced to sit. "For Dalton, I mean," he clarified, taking pity on her.

"He won't let me take the blame," Penelope muttered, "he did propose first."

"You're having a rather dense moment, aren't you, my dear girl?"

Penelope forced a cynical, slack-jawed grin onto her face. "Tense? How perceptive of you."

"Deliberate density." Neal sat beside her. "Family has a way of shaping people. I married Yuki and our children are entirely too clever for their own good. With Dom for a father and Kel for a mother, it's never occurred to Kefira that she can't take charge of whatever she wishes with mischief and hard work. The Lioness's daughter went so far out of her way to avoid knightly responsibility that she became a spymaster in another country."

"But—"

Neal pressed a finger to her lips and continued. "Your lack of parents made you fierce and independent."

Penelope nodded slowly, still puzzled.

"Dalton did not magically arrive on this earth the day before you met him. And he didn't come walking, talking, taking his tea black, and working well with strong, independent women."

"I suppose not," Penelope murmured thoughtfully.

Neal cleared his throat. "Having done so myself, I feel well qualified to tell you that the best—and possibly the only—preparation for befriending a girl page and surviving four years under the Lioness's tutelage is a strong-minded mother." Neal paused. "And possibly a few formidable sisters."

"And I'm supposed to find that reassuring?"

"Good point." Neal shrugged. "Good luck."

Penelope nodded. "Good afternoon." She stood and pressed her forehead briefly to his chest. "Goodbye."

PDPD

When they were five miles from Dalton's home, the snow began to fall in thick, clinging flakes. After another three miles, they'd concluded that "soaked" and "chilled" were marvelously inadequate descriptions of misery. And one mile from Dalton's house, they were attacked by a hurrok.

It flew low—weighed down by the snow, which it used as cover, coming out of nowhere. They just had time to draw their swords before they were knocked from their horses. Penelope rolled instinctively to her feet, lifted her blade, and pressed her back against Dalton's.

"This had better not be Arielle's latest pet," Dalton muttered.

"So long as she doesn't have a herd." Penelope peered into the darkness, unsure which side the hurrok's next attack would come from.

"That might be just like old times."

The hurrok's wingtip hit Penelope's face before she could answer. She screamed and swung sideways, slicing through the wing membrane. The hurrok snarled, lurching sideways, and swiped at her arm. But Dalton spun around and stabbed its side. It knocked them both down again with its good wing and landed to charge on foot.

Dalton just got his sword up in time to thrust at its chest before it trampled them and Penelope darted around to slit its throat once Dalton had it impaled.

"Alright?" he asked.

"Bruised, hungry, cold, wet, tired, and missing our horses," Penelope muttered. "But quite cured of nostalgia."

Dalton sighed in agreement and wrapped his arm around her shoulders as they set off after their horses. "That cut on your arm that you haven't mentioned had better be a genuine superficial scratch."

Penelope lifted her arm to investigate, but was interrupted by a shout and shrill neigh and the sudden approach of four riders, pulling two rather sheepish and very familiar horses after them.

"Dalton is that you?" the front rider called.

"Are these yours?" the man behind him added.

"Yes," Dalton answered emphatically. "Alwin? Darren?" He waved at the second rider.

"That's Lutz actually—he's just put on a bit of muscle," the third rider explained, already dismounting

"Of which Darren isn't the least bit jealous," the fourth rider put in, holding up her lantern without dismounting. By its light Penelope saw that Dalton looked nothing like his three older brothers—they were all blond, blue-eyed, and stocky. But there was something very familiar about the way they smiled as they clapped Dalton on the back.

"Is that your kill?" Lutz asked, pointing to the hurrok. "We've been tracking it the last week."

"Joint project," Penelope muttered.

"Is this your squire?" Alwin gestured to Penelope.

Penelope pulled back her hood. "Actually—"

"This is my wife, Penelope." Dalton deliberately wrapped an arm about Penelope's waist and drew her close.

Penelope swallowed and offered Alwin her hand.

Alwin frowned, but Lutz—or possibly Darren, Penelope couldn't quite tell them apart yet—elbowed him out of the way and pulled Penelope into a soldierly hug to plant a brief kiss on her temple. "Welcome kinswoman and lady knight."

"Yes, welcome," Darren added, giving her a very proper handshake and kissing her knuckles in a distant, respectful manner so that she could not tell whether or not he approved of her.

"Forgive me, Dalton" Alwin grunted, "I had forgotten—I'm afraid I haven't read many of your letters."

"I can't say I blame you," Penelope told him, "his handwriting's rather untidy."

Dalton scowled, Alwin snorted approvingly and offered Penelope a warm handshake. Lutz meanwhile whispered loudly to the others, "I told you she'd be good humored."

"And I told you she'd be pretty," the woman with the lantern answered.

Lutz surveyed Penelope once more. "You were right, Gran, keep your coin."

Penelope blinked at the woman's dark hair and unlined face; she was like a feminine version of Dalton, only her eyes were grey while his were green. She sat elegantly in her sidesaddle. She wasn't pretty. She was stunningly beautiful.

"You can't possibly be that old," Penelope muttered as they all mounted again.

"No." She laughed. "Just an old maid at twenty-six. I'm Grania. Dalton's sister."

"His half-sister," Darren clarified quickly.

"And my cleverest," Dalton added, guiding his horse to Grania so that he could kiss her cheek.

"Not that they ever listen to me." Grania gestured to her other brothers.

"You lost your credibility when you gave us raw garlic and told us it was sweets," Lutz called over his shoulder.

"You believed me," Grania reminded him. "And you deserved it."

PDPD

It seemed to Penelope to that she barely had time to laugh and catch her breath before they were riding into Dalton's courtyard. She hesitated a moment before dismounting, which was a mistake since it gave Darren time to step around and offer her a hand and she had to turn awkwardly to pretend she didn't see it.

Dalton laughed. "I don't think she knows how to get down with help," he said, helping Grania to the ground.

"Erm sorry," Penelope and Darren muttered simultaneously.

"They're just accustomed to me." Grania's voice held just a trace of bitterness and she leaned heavily on Dalton's arm as they passed their horses to a servant and started for the door. It was only then that Penelope noticed that she walked with a terrible, graceful limp. Her left leg was stiff and shriveled as though from an old injury.

Penelope was saved from inventing a polite murmur when the door flew open, releasing a flood of golden light and girl about Rissa and Vina's age.

"Dalton," she called, practically throwing herself at him. Grania sidestepped hastily to lean against Penelope.

"Arielle!" He spun her around. "Goddess, you've grown."

"So have you," she accused.

And then a trio of small children came pelting out the door. Fortunately, they were even more startled by Penelope's presence than she was by theirs and two tangled themselves in Alwin's legs and one in Darren's legs until they were picked up.

"Are these—"

"Our devious nephews," Lutz informed her, taking Alwin's son from him.

"And our wily niece," Dalton added, reaching for the four-year-old in Alwin's other arm. She appraised him suspiciously for a moment before deciding she remembered him enough to squirm into his arms.

Grania laughed and kissed Penelope's cheek before shifting to Alwin's arm. This left Penelope standing before Arielle, who was green-eyed and exactly her height. They nodded awkwardly at one another, neither sure what to say.

"Let them come in, children. Supper is waiting." Dalton's mother—a tall woman in her late thirties, with dull-gold hair and green eyes just like Dalton's—stood patiently in the doorway.

Penelope tried not to gasp and Dalton wrapped his free arm around her waist. Their niece slid out of his arms to trot up the steps and suddenly they were standing alone before Dalton's mother.

"Oh Dalton," she whispered pulling him into her arms and rocking slightly back and forth. Penelope's gaze dropped automatically to the floor so that she was almost surprised when Dalton's mother took her shoulders and drew her into a close embrace, welcoming her without a word.

PDPD

Supper was simple lentil soup and bread. Penelope ate silently, too hungry to do anything else and quite content just to listen Grania's sharp-witted commentary and Lutz's enthusiastic replies. The rest of the family spoke more somberly, grief slowing their conversation. It was only as she reached for a third slice of bread that she realized Arielle, Darren, and Dalton's mother—Meril, as she'd ordered Penelope to call her—were watching her intently.

She blinked, trying to contain the blush flooding her cheeks.

"I don't think she wants us to mention it," Arielle said, her tone implying that this was a good reason for mentioning it.

Penelope swallowed and glanced at Dalton. He frowned at Arielle.

"Relax, dear," Meril whispered. "No one's going to make any tactless remarks about your potential for childbearing. But," Meril raised her voice slightly, " I do think you ought to let me take a look at your arm."

Penelope glanced down at the dried blood on her sleeve. "It really is just a scratch." She met Dalton's eyes to assure him that she wasn't about to keel over as she usually did after making such pronouncements. "It can wait till supper's finished. I can barely feel it."

Darren frowned in disapproval and Arielle flinched, but Grania nodded understandingly. Penelope suspected she'd dealt with her fair share of pain in life.

"Too bad nobody bet she'd be tough," Lutz said.

"You ought to have assumed so," Dalton replied, wrapping his hand discretely over her knee.

PDPD

Penelope woke the next morning to find that Dalton had left their room and to realize that she had nothing suitable to wear for the funeral. She was glaring at her bag—in the hope that this would force proper garments to appear—when someone knocked.

Penelope opened the door and Arielle thrust a dress at her. It was a simple, long-sleeved grey, the skirt delicately embroidered in black. It was exactly what she needed.

"Thanks," she murmured.

"It's Grania's," Arielle explained. "She shortened it; I just carried it down. It's what Father would have expected." She bit her lip and shut the door to hide her tears from Penelope.

The dress fit astonishingly well and Penelope thanked Grania effusively when she knocked several minutes later to appraise her handiwork. But she found herself shuffling awkwardly before Arielle's silent gaze.

"Well," Grania said finally. "We'd best hope Dalton doesn't die young. You're dreadfully unsuited for mourning colors."

"He doesn't wear them well either," Arielle put in, glancing down the hall at Dalton. She stuck her head back in the door and blinked at Penelope. "Guess you'd better stick around."

They were all laughing when Dalton returned, but completely unable to explain why. Dalton took Grania's arm to help her downstairs to the family chapel and Arielle shrugged and laced her own fingers through Penelope's.

PDPD

Penelope spent the entire ceremony hoping a latent Gift for disappearance would suddenly manifest itself. It didn't. And there was no avoiding the fact that she was attending the funeral of a stranger who'd disapproved of her very existence—not to mention her marriage to his son—and listening to an authoritative speech from a conservative priest. At least until said speech drove Arielle and Grania to roll their tear-filled eyes—simultaneously and gracefully—and sent Dalton and Lutz into otherwise unexplained fits of coughing.

Then the priest stopped and Dalton and his brothers carried the body into the field for burning. Penelope watched hesitantly—aware that, as a knight, she ought to join them, and that, as Dalton's wife, she didn't want to create a fuss by doing so. And she didn't particularly want to bid him a symbolic farewell.

Meril came to walk beside her. Penelope swallowed and took her hand.

"I'm sorry for—" Penelope began.

"I know." Meril smiled sadly. "Never mind." She sighed, gazing at Dalton, who was marching beside his brothers, his shoulders stubbornly straight. "He takes after him."

"So he tells me," Penelope muttered.

"Just as steadfast—just as handsome—only his eyes are mine. And his gentleness, I think."

"Well, then," Penelope said slowly. "I am immensely grateful to both of you."

By then they had reached the pyre and they both stood in silence again. Then, because Dalton was supporting Grania, Penelope walked beside his mother once more.

"You're immensely welcome," she murmured, as though no time had passed. Penelope smiled and darted forward to hold the door for her, trying to ignore the I-told-you-sos that Neal seem to be singing in her head.

By the time they left the next afternoon, Neal had an entire smug and gleeful chorus; Arielle had shyly asked for instruction in archery; Grania had managed to take Penelope's measurements and threatened to make her a dress; Lutz had warned Penelope that said dress would be ready in one week, Alwin had bet that it would only take six days, and Darren had actually smiled at her. And, waiting twins aside, Penelope wasn't sure that she wanted to leave.

_I'm almost sorry to leave Dalton's family too, but duty and exciting plots call in Corus. So, thanks for reading (and maybe even reviewing) Eventfully Ever After—I'm anticipating slightly longer chapters for this story and I plan to return to familiar faces in the next episode. See…_

Penelope and Dalton arrived at the palace well after dark, but Lord Wyldon still managed to greet them outside the stables as soon as they'd finished with their horses.

"Good evening, sir," Dalton said, trying to read Wyldon's expression and wondering if he'd ever seen the man yawn.

Wyldon nodded curtly and gestured for them to walk alongside him. "We've several matters to discuss. The twins, for starters. Their weapon work isn't at the level I usually expect of students their age."

_P.S. The garlic anecdote was pulled straight from Real Life. My brother still has selective hearing. _


	2. Advice, Opinions, and Orders

_Hello again and many thanks to my lovely reviewers—you persuaded me to keep Dalton's sisters in the game. Setting (and Wyldon et. al.) belongs to Tamora Pierce. Enjoy!_

"What are you thinking?" Dalton asked after they had ridden five miles from his home in relative silence.

"How much I love your family," Penelope murmured, slightly surprised by her own answer. "Only I'm wondering about your sister Grania—"she paused—"she's so vibrant and nurturing. I don't understand why she isn't married."

"Don't you?" Dalton muttered almost bitterly. But he reached over to trail his fingers along shoulder.

"Her leg?" Penelope guessed.

"Not quite." Dalton sighed. "Her mother, my father's first wife, died of a fever. Grania was six, but she survived the illness. It left her crippled and barren."

"Oh," Penelope mumbled. "I'm so sorry. I didn't—"

"Of course not." Dalton shrugged. "She doesn't want pity. She tries to make us forget as much as possible."

"Is that why she's so good at riding?" Penelope asked.

Dalton smiled. "And sewing. And talking. And writing. And interfering. And bossing. And playing chess—she taught me, you know. Anyway, I don't think she's unhappy. And she's always been something like a second mother to Arielle."

"That doesn't bother your mother?" Penelope asked, still struggling to imagine growing up in a house so full of people and emotions.

Dalton grinned. "She and Grania are like sisters—not even ten years apart, you know."

"I didn't," Penelope muttered. "I was politely avoiding the math."

"No need. My father remarried a week after the funeral, but I came along a whole ten months later. On Grania's seventh birthday actually."

"Really?"

Dalton frowned. "Well, I suppose it is possible Grania talked the entire family into convincing me we share a birthday. I don't actually remember it."

Penelope smiled. "We should invite her to celebrate with you this summer."

"You just want a chance to inflict her on Neal," Dalton accused.

"No, he's smug enough as it is." Penelope blinked innocently. "And Arielle could come too, of course. I'm sure Rissa and Vina would love her."

PDPD

Penelope and Dalton arrived at the palace well after dark, but Lord Wyldon still managed to greet them outside the stables as soon as they'd finished with their horses.

"Good evening, sir," Dalton said, trying to read Wyldon's expression and wondering if he'd ever seen the man yawn.

Wyldon nodded curtly and gestured for them to walk alongside him. "We've several matters to discuss. The twins, for starters. Their weapon work isn't at the level I usually expect of students their age."

"Sir," Dalton began protesting before Penelope could, trusting himself to do a better job concealing his outrage. "That's hardly—"

"They are considerably more advanced," Wyldon continued.

"Oh," Penelope muttered. And Dalton felt the tension drain from her fingers.

"I don't, however, grant the two of you full credit for their sophistication. I think several others have contributed. Mindelan, for one, and perhaps her husband, and certainly Selena—" Wyldon paused abruptly, frowning.

"Which brings us to the next matter for discussion," Dalton guessed.

Wyldon nodded curtly. "I don't typically involve myself in the living arrangements of young knights."

Dalton glanced at Penelope. _Jeck? _He mouthed. And she bit her lip and raised her eyebrows.

"But given the fact that certain—shall we call them chauvinistic?—knights are moving into your wing, I felt the need to pull a few strings. I'm not sure whether or not you're aware of your new neighbors."

"Gregory," Penelope muttered.

"On one side." Wyldon nodded. "Selena's on your other. I thought you'd be something of a buffer." He hesitated and then caught Dalton's eyes. "I'd appreciate it if you kept an eye on her."

"Sir," Penelope began, speeding up in frustration so that Dalton had to wrap an arm around her shoulders to pull her back to Wyldon's pace. "I hardly think that's—"

"It's not that she can't take care of herself," Wyldon assured them. "It's just that sometimes she's too polite about it."

Penelope sighed. "Right, sorry sir." She stretched around Dalton to clasp Wyldon's wrist. "We'd be happy to."

Wyldon actually smiled at Penelope as she tucked herself back under Dalton's arm. "I put Marcel as far as possible down the hall—as a courtesy to all of you."

"We appreciate that," Dalton said, "but I'm afraid the wing will be rather crowded."

"No rather about it," Wyldon said. "I've heard enough understatement from Queenscove today regarding the twins reckless tendencies."

"Where are—"Dalton started.

"In bed. In two complete pieces." Wyldon clasped Dalton's shoulder. "I won't detain you any longer—I'm sure you'll need what sleep you can get tonight," he added as they stepped inside. He nodded farewell and started for his own quarters.

PDPD

"No wonder Wyldon doesn't like to interfere," Penelope whispered, as they came upon two tall figures pressed together near their door.

"I hope that's Jeck," Dalton muttered, recognizing Selena, "otherwise 'crowded' won't even begin to describe—"

"Well, well, well. What have we here?"

Penelope flinched as she recognized Marcel's booming voice and blinked when he lifted a lamp to illuminate the entire hall. Gregory and several other knights opened their doors to gape at Selena and Jeck. Dalton stiffened and pulled away from Penelope so they could both reach their sword hilts.

To her credit, Selena did not jump away from Jeck; they separated slowly, both flushed, and she turned to face Marcel.

"Nothing that need concern you," she hissed.

"I think the purity of our lady knights"—he glanced pointedly at Penelope—"concerns us all."

Dalton stepped forward and Penelope jerked her chin around to glare at Marcel, but it was Jeck who spoke.

"It might, if the lady knights belonged to anyone but themselves, but since they aren't our lady knights, their personal decisions aren't ours to scrutinize."

Penelope could have kissed Jeck if it weren't for Selena and Dalton.

"Disgusting enough that you sully yourself with a common smith," Marcel snarled, "but you choose one who barks back at his betters."

"And one who will bite if you can't control your foul mouth," Jeck added, stunning Marcel into lowering his lantern and lunging forward.

"Enough," Selena said.

Jeck turned his back on Marcel to face her. "My apologies," he murmured. "I can see I am not welcome here." Then he caught Selena's eye, seeking her agreement.

Selena leaned suddenly forward and kissed him tenderly. He wrapped his hands briefly over her shoulders and then he turned, nodded once at Dalton, and calmly walked away.

"If you really need to duel another noble man over the matter," Dalton put in, "I'd be happy to oblige, so long as you don't mind a humiliating defeat."

Marcel scowled and stamped down the hall to his own quarters and most of the watching knights—all but Gregory—shut their doors.

Selena let out a shaky breath and walked over to greet Penelope and Dalton. "Thanks. We—I got tired of being paranoid and proper. There won't be any more disturbances like that. Sorry you got pulled into thi—"

Penelope pulled Selena into a tight hug to silence her.

"Arguably," Gregory muttered, "Penelope belongs to Dalton." He nodded swiftly at all three of them. "Evening," he added, and closed his door.

Selena vanished into her own room a moment later.

"Sorry about Gregory's idiocy," Dalton whispered, pulling Penelope close again as they stepped into their own room.

Penelope shrugged. "Arguably—"she kissed his jaw—"you belong to me too."

PDPD

A sharp rapping woke them a few hours after midnight. Penelope, who was nearest the door, grimaced at Dalton and rolled out of bed.

"We're switching sides," she muttered, before yanking the door open.

"Sorry to disturb you," Gregory said, sounding sincere, if not repentant. "The king's summoned you to an emergency meeting." He scanned the collar of her nightgown but didn't lower his gaze. "You're expected immediately in the royal chambers."

Dalton stepped up beside her and slid an arm around her waist. "This had better not be any kind of prank."

"I assure you, sir, that if it were, I would have woken you at an even more obscenely unreasonable hour. I don't sin half-heartedly." He scowled. "The servant they sent for you knocked on my door by mistake and didn't stay long enough to determine that I am not, in fact, two people."

"Right," Penelope said, "thanks." She nodded briskly and hurried to dress.

When Gregory made no move to leave, Dalton pointedly pulled the door most of the way closed and stuck his head out.

"Any idea what this is about?"

"None, but I don't think I'll bother going back to sleep. I expect we'll all be woken before long."

PDPD

The king and queen were fully, if untidily, dressed and seated before the small table in their sitting room when Penelope and Dalton arrived. It didn't take them long to explain what they wanted. There was a large "something like a firewraith, only cold" roaming a few days' ride north of the palace. They were to lead a team of knights and a troop of the Own out to dispatch it.

"Who's on the team?" Dalton asked.

"Well, Wyldon recommended Selena and Garrett. But then we realized that we'll have to send basically your entire wing in order to have enough manpower."

"Why us?" Penelope asked, mostly to distract herself from the unpleasant necessity of a long ride with Gregory—because she wasn't going to trust him yet—and Marcel—because she wasn't going to trust him until his death, and possibly not even then.

"You've demonstrated considerable talent for handling new, massive, and unpredictable monsters with a minimum of fuss," the king answered. "We think you'll get the job done most efficiently if you have free rein."

"But that's not precisely why he called you here," Thayet said, elbowing the king gently.

"Right." The king coughed. "I need to put one person officially in command and I wasn't sure which of you it ought to be."

Penelope and Dalton blinked at one another.

"We didn't feel it was our place to interfere in your marriage that way," the queen added, tugging on Jon's arm. "Which is why we're giving you five minutes alone to decide the matter for yourselves." She pulled the king from the room and shut the door firmly behind them.

They both stared at the table for a long moment. The Dalton wrapped his fingers over her arm.

"You'd better do it," Penelope muttered, just as Dalton said, "it ought to be you."

She slammed her free hand down on the table. "It's way too early for this."

Dalton watched her carefully, unsure whether she referred to their marriage or the hour of the morning. "This is your chance to prove—"

"I'm done proving things to myself"—she smiled crookedly—"and to you." She shrugged. "And I'm tired of trying to prove things to unteachable idiots. I know I'd be quite capable of leading—I don't need to show them that. I just want to tackle this monster as quickly as possible and get back home. I can take my time convincing them to obey me when Rissa and Vina's lives aren't in danger.

"They're coming with us?"

"It's easier to command if you got squires dealing with your gear. And they need the experience. You can order them to stay in back or in the middle, whichever's safer."

"So—"

Penelope nodded.

"Let's face it. Commanding our wing is going to be a really unpleasant job and neither of us actually wants to do it."

Penelope gave her eyelashes an exaggerated flutter. "So it's really sweet of you to spare me the chore."

Dalton rolled his eyes, but recognized the logic of her earlier arguments. "Very well." They both sighed and glared at the table again. "You do know you're stuck taking over if I'm killed or otherwise incapacitated."

"We'll just have to make sure that doesn't happen then," Penelope murmured, turning to kiss him.

PDPD

The king whistled upon returning to his sitting room to find two of his commanding knights locked in a close embrace. The queen realized she had absolutely no way of knowing which way the decision had gone and raised an imperious eyebrow as they pulled apart.

"Well?"

"Er, right, beg pardon, your majesties," Dalton said. "I'll be leading this mission."

The king nodded his acceptance and Penelope took pity on Thayet's eyebrow.

"You're more likely to get everyone back this way. I can't promise I wouldn't order Marcel to jump off a cliff."

"We appreciate your restraint," Thayet replied.

"Good luck," the king added. "You leave at first light."

PDPD

"Good thing we never bothered unpacking," Penelope muttered as they hurried away from the royal chambers. "We'll want our things ready in an hour so we can deal with everyone else's problems as they arise."

"You get the twins, then," Dalton told her, as they hurried away from the royal quarters. "I'd just as soon not be seen visiting their room in the middle of the night."

Penelope nodded, kissed his cheek, and sped away, leaving Dalton to collect their things and his thoughts.

The first few hours of his command passed in a heady, sleepless blur. He vaguely remembered surveying his team of puffy-eyed knights as they mounted. And greeting Rissa and Vina, who had entirely too much energy given the hour. And listening to Neal's dire warnings about the limitations of the young healer accompanying their team.

Then he was riding out the gates, with Penelope at his right side and the twins on his left, and fifteen knights and fifteen men of the Own following him.

He called a halt around lunchtime and wandered through the group as he ate, getting a feel for his command. Most of the men greeted him with polite nods and he was just beginning to think that the experience might not be so unpleasant after all, when he heard the distinctive slap of fists against leather.

He ducked around a few horses to find Selena face to face with Marcel and Timone, who was doubled over around his gut.

"Nothing happened," she was saying. "But since you don't believe me I won't bother swearing it. And I'm not—"

"At least show some shame, you hypocritical little bit—"

"Afternoon gentlemen," Dalton cut in. "Might I have a word with the lady knight?"

"A word?" Marcel sneered. "You've got three girls already, Dalton. And Selena's awfully long-winded."

Selena drove her fist into his jaw. "I can be brief, if I've nothing more to say."

"Look what you've done," Dalton muttered, "Now I'll have to assign her punishment duty. She can dig the women's latrines tonight." Digging a four-person latrine wasn't much of a punishment and she'd probably have been doing it anyway. "And the two of you will dig the men's," he added, assigning them a much larger task.

Marcel and Timone glared sharply and then stomped away.

"Er, sorry, sir," Selena muttered, glancing after them. "I should have known—I wish I hadn't—"

"You haven't done anything to be ashamed of." He hesitated a moment and then gripped her arm gently. "You shouldn't have anything to regret even if Jeck had stayed overnight."

Selena blushed. "I know." She shrugged. "You probably think you'd be a hypocrite if you told me otherwise."

"This isn't about me and Penelope."

"No, of course not," she hissed. "You two were cutely unconventional. But I'm a real disgrace and Jeck's—"

"Jeck's madly in love with you. And you're blind if you think anything else matters."

"That's easy for you to say," she started, then his words hit her and she blinked. "Really? How would you know?"

"It's obvious." Dalton shook his head. "He and I do talk sometimes—I won't tell you when, I'm entitled to try to surprise Penelope with shiny metal objects." He sighed. "It shows in the way his voice changes when he talks about you. He knows you—he knows more about your grip than I know about my own—he knows your silent pauses and your fondness for currents and the way you growl your way through nonsensical conversations with Wyldon's dog. He adores you—he's devoted." Dalton smiled. "And, given the way you kissed last night, I rather suspect you feel the same way."

Selena surveyed her feet. "I—er—yes, I think I—I do." She blinked nervously at him.

Dalton chuckled. "Try telling him that. It will do you both more good in the long run."

"Right, yes, sir."

"Jeck's very lucky," Dalton said, pulling her into a hug. "But I think he probably deserves it. So do you."

"Thanks," she mumbled into his sleeve before stepping away. "I'll try not to earn any more latrine duty."

Dalton grinned. "See that you don't. I need something to threaten Rissa and Vina with."

PDPD

None of the men insulted Selena for the rest of the afternoon. Of course, none of them would look at her or speak to her either. And she wound up brooding a half horse length behind Penelope.

"It'll pass," Penelope assured her.

Selena shrugged. Rissa and Vina winced sympathetically.

"Eventually," Penelope added weakly.

"I don't mind," Selena muttered. "I mean it's annoying, but—I just don't get it. Why not just challenge me outright and be done with it?"

"Trust me, Selena," Dalton muttered, "they're all just jealous of Jeck."

"Because of me?" Selena frowned. "I seriously doubt it. I'm not exactly—"

"You're only part of it. They're mostly jealous of his smith's arm muscles."

"Aren't we all?" Penelope wondered as Selena bit her lip to keep from smiling.

"For one reason or another," Rissa added. "And I thought I was the only one who'd noticed."

"Obviously not," Selena informed her.

"Well," Vina reflected, "I suppose their taste isn't all bad then."

Penelope shook her head at Dalton and they trotted a few steps ahead together.

"Whatever you told her earlier that made her stop doubting herself," Penelope muttered, "thanks for that." She stretched out a hand to wrap around his shoulder. "I love you, you know."

"Really?" Dalton grinned. "Perhaps I ought to talk to other women more often."

_So hope you enjoyed, many thanks to all readers and reviewers. And, in our upcoming chapter…_

"I think I might be madly in love with your wife, sir," one of the men called as Penelope reappeared, sword in hand.

Dalton shrugged, too relieved to glare at the man. "Me too," he muttered fervently.

_Let's hope airport security is fast and I get plenty of time to work on it on my way back to school. _

"


	3. Impulse

_Hello again and many thanks to my lovely reviewers. I apologize for the delay in posting—I've had very limited web access since I returned to campus. I've also had a lot of time alone with my laptop, so this chapter is extra long and the next two are mostly written and will be up soon. As always, the setting belongs to Tamora Pierce; the characters are mine—and, as you'll see, I have very little control over them. This chapter follows about a day after the last. Enjoy!_

"I need to get all their attention," Dalton muttered, surveying the chaotic mass of horses and men putting up tents and starting cookfires.

"I could run through camp naked," Rissa volunteered.

"Then you'll have their attention," Vina told her. "And Dalton won't be able to get a word in edgewise."

"Or get anything productive accomplished in the next week," Dalton muttered.

"Or prevent all the duels it would undoubtedly provoke," Penelope added.

"And you'd wind up with frostbite," Selena said, kicking at the snow underfoot. "Among other disagreeable effects."

"I'd not crazy," Rissa assured her. "I would wear boots."

Then Vina suddenly stepped into one stirrup to get her head and shoulders well above the crowd and shouted, "silence!"

There was indeed silence (and a great deal of staring) as everyone tried to puzzle out how such a tremendous sound had emerged from Vina's small and generally quiet mouth.

"Wyldon was right," Vina mused in her ordinary voice. "It's all in the gut."

"I'll keep that in mind," Dalton muttered, meeting Penelope's alarmed gaze as they both wondered what else Wyldon might have taught her.

Vina nodded and leapt back to the ground to stand at attention beside Rissa.

"Right," Dalton said, turning to address his men. "Since we've heard reports that these things tend to attack around nightfall, I'm posting guards on our perimeter and lookouts in the trees." He gestured to a pine with few lower limbs but an abundance of thicker branch ideal for scouting. " Tomas and Gregory will patrol our perimeter to start with and Garth—"he nodded at a tall, grizzled, and grey-eyed man of the Own—"can toss Simon and Penelope into those branches."

"Are you favoring your wife with the easiest task?" Marcel asked. "Or tucking her out of the way so you can have Selena to yourself?"

"Sir." Selena stepped forward before Dalton could challenge Marcel. "Might I take Tomas's place on patrol?"

Dalton glanced at Gregory and forced himself to acknowledge the fact that, while Gregory hadn't actually spoken to Selena, he hadn't treated her with any overt disrespect during their journey. "Very well."

Gregory shrugged. "If you care to proceed right, lady knight, I will start to the left."

Selena nodded and they both started off. They'd gone only a few paces when Marcel's eyes fell on the twins and he opened his mouth as though preparing to make a similar remark about them.

"I believe I will send my squires with you." Dalton hesitated for a calculating moment. "Vina, you can follow Selena and Rissa can follow Gregory." Vina and Selena always got on well and Dalton trusted Rissa to do something loud and violent if Gregory took any unwelcome liberties.

But Marcel wasn't willing to let the opportunity for insubordination pass so easily.

"So, he is favoring his wife with the lightest work while the rest of us slave away setting up—"

"Penelope," Dalton interrupted, "is going to miss supper and sit for hours in a tree branch, growing cold, stiff, and generally miserable." He shrugged out of his tunic and passed it to Penelope, who had removed her cloak in preparation for the climb. She nodded and deliberately brushed her hands against his as she took it.

"Though I've no particular wish to have other men lifting her about," Dalton continued. "I'm assigning her to lookout duty because of her small stature, which may have something to with her being female, which has a great deal to do with her being my wife. Otherwise she'd just be my second-in-command. If, however, you wish to take her place, you must discuss the matter with Garth. He may boost whomever he sees fit into the tree."

Garth glanced once at Marcel's far bulkier form and nodded at Penelope. "If you would be so good as to step this way, lady knight." He took a firmly practical, but decidedly respectful, hold of her thighs and hoisted her to the lowest branch.

Penelope swung herself onto it, smiled once at Dalton, and then disappeared into the upper branches.

PDPD

The blinding snow began just Rissa and Gregory apporached the outmost leg of their circuit.

"Sir," Rissa called. "Do you think we ought to start back?"

"I shouldn't think you'd be the sort of girl to call it quits just because the conditions aren't ideal," Gregory answered.

"I shouldn't think you'd be the sort of reckless idiot who winds up freezing to death half a mile from camp because he didn't have the sense to turn around in time."

Gregory went to the trouble of turning around to gaze at her for a long moment. "I doubt this weather will deter whatever might be out there," he said before setting off again.

Rissa's inaudible sigh appeared as a long white puff and she fell into step behind Gregory once more. Her toes stung with every step and she had long since lost all feeling in her nose. She very much doubted that she'd be able to spot anything approaching while she needed all her focus just to keep planting one foot in front of the other. And, with her painfully stiff fingers, she had trouble imagining gripping a weapon to fight back.

She only glanced sideways in an attempt to distract herself from the pain in her feet. And then ducking was a matter of instinct.

"Sir," she shouted, "look out!" She grabbed Gregory's hand and yanked him to the ground just as something whizzed dangerously past their heads. An icicle, she realized, as it shattered against a tree.

"That's it," Gregory muttered, rolling to his feet as he drew his own sword. Rissa leapt upright and they both just managed to step aside as the creature—a cottage-sized, lion-shaped creature as white and glistening as a snow bank—pounced and spat more icicles at them.

Gregory cursed and then caught Rissa's eye and readied his sword. She understood immediately and darted in to jab at the creature's side, distracting it so that Gregory could get in a solid blow across its neck.

He missed. The creature lunged at him and might have bitten off his arm if Rissa hadn't struck quickly at its jaw and then dashed back to jab its ribs, giving Gregory another chance.

He didn't waste this one. The monster crumpled, its half severed neck collapsing.

Rissa stepped in to swing at the other side, just to be sure, and gasped as a sudden pain exploded above her left knee. And then Gregory seemed to come out of nowhere, knocking her down and landing so hard on top of her that their foreheads slammed together.

Rissa tried to kick herself free once before a massive paw swept weakly over both of them, followed by a shower of icicles, and she realized that Gregory was shielding her with his body. She stopped struggling and he dropped his head into the snow above her shoulder. They both held very still and silent for a long time as the beast's noise and movement diminished and stopped altogether. Rissa realized she didn't mind terribly much; she was almost warm for the first time in hours.

Eventually Gregory propped himself up on his elbows and blinked down at her. "Sometimes things take a while to die," he advised. "Keep that in mind next time you step in for a closer look."

"Right," Rissa breathed. "Will do. Thanks."

"Good." He rolled away from her. "You're not half bad at this. It would have been a shame to loose you to a dead animal after you saved my life."

Rissa nodded, blushing slightly, and scrambled painfully to her feet. "Thanks," she said again. She staggered painfully to her sword and picked it up. Then she reached for his and passed it to him as he finished drinking from a flask.

"Thank you, Lady—"

"It's Rissa."

"And I am Greg." He tossed her the flask. "Brandy—have a swig—you're pale as the snow here."

Rissa took two swigs and tossed it back. "So are you," she muttered, eyeing a large gash on his shoulder.

He ignored her concern. "How are you to walk back to camp?"

Rissa glanced down where the icicle had hit her left leg. The cold had numbed the wound and stopped the bleeding but her leg shook whenever she put weight on it.

"I'll wait until I see my bedroll to collapse."

"See that you do," he muttered, sawing one of the creature's claws loose to take back with them. "It's freezing."

Rissa shivered in agreement. The snowfall had slowed only to be replaced by a deep bone-chilling cold.

"Come on then," he muttered, linking his arm through hers for warmth and nudging her into motion. They trudged silently for a time and then Rissa spoke to take her mind off the cold.

"You aren't at all what I expected."

Greg smirked. "You're exactly what I expected." He frowned sideways at her. "Only prettier." He shrugged. "I suppose your expectations were shaped by Penelope's memories."

Rissa nodded. "And I suppose you want to convince me she was exaggerating."

"Unless she's told you I was an arrogant, bullying, unchivalrous bastard, she was probably understating the case."

"She does that sometimes," Rissa murmured, feeling decidedly bewildered. "What's changed?"

"Well, shortly after Penelope saved my life, my mother stopped letting my father beat her—just stabbed his hand with a fork in the middle of supper actually—a very inspiring sight." He hesitated, drawing breath. "And then I had my Ordeal."

"Oh. Is the Chamber as—" She couldn't quite formulate a question, but he seemed to understand what she meant.

"It's not a very kind room," he murmured, "but it's painstakingly fair."

"Oh," she whispered, knowing he couldn't say more. "And it changed you."

"It persuaded me to change myself." He pulled his arm free from hers and she realized that she'd been helping him stay upright just as much as he'd been helping her when they both slowed their pace. "And to try to understand the unfamiliar instead of controlling it."

Rissa wasn't entirely sure what he meant, but she thought she understood the proud remorse in his voice.

"So," he murmured after a silent stretch, "you tackled a fire wraith in the fall, didn't you?"

"Dalton killed it."

"Was it worse than this?"

Rissa shrugged. "Vina—my twin—might say so. But I think—if it came down to it and I could choose. I'd rather die in fire."

"So would I," he said. And they walked silently once more until they reached the outskirts of camp and saw a mass of men huddled around one fire.

"Food," Rissa muttered eagerly and started forward.

"Stop a moment." He grabbed her arm.

"Why?" She turned impatiently back to him.

Greg lifted his free hand to cup her face, brushed his nose tenderly across her cheek, and then kissed her so persuasively that all her plans to slap him fled her mind. Her only thought, in fact, was the giddy realization that they were both warm and alive.

"Not very chivalrous of me to take advantage just now," he muttered as they broke apart, blinking at one another. "Not that I care," he added.

"Me neither," Rissa whispered fiercely, stepping on tiptoe to kiss him back.

"Rissa, Sir Gregory," a voice—Penelope's Rissa realized unhappily—called from above. "Dalton's waiting for your report."

PDPD

Dalton's heart seized when Penelope, stiff with cold and distracted by the arrival of Rissa and Gregory, slipped from the third-to-last branch. But Garth caught her easily in his large gloved hands.

"Steady there, lass," he muttered, lowering her to the ground and waiting a moment to be sure her legs didn't give out.

Dalton left behind the local farmer who'd been describing the beasts to him and hurried to meet her.

"I'm just numb and cold," she assured him. "Would it be horribly unprofessional of me to cuddle under your cloak just now?"

Dalton nodded, passing her her own cloak, and sighed regretfully, but he chafed her shoulders as they walked back to the farmer and the fire. He called orders for Winston to take Penelope's place in the tree and sent Marcel and Garth out to replace Rissa and Gregory on foot patrol.

The farmer took it upon himself to hand Penelope a brandy flask and a bowl of still warmish stew.

"Ye'll be the lady knight Penelope," he said. "Heard a great deal about ye—I've four daughters at home ye understand an' all adventurous-like."

Penelope swallowed the wrong way in a rare bout of self-consciousness and the farmer calmly pounded her back as he picked up his explanation just where he'd left off.

"They blend in with the snow—seem to bring on the cold themselves actually—so it's hard to tell, but there are three of them so far as we can count—all different sizes, ye understand—"

"And which size would you guess this one belonged to?" Gregory asked, producing a long silvery claw.

"That would've been the medium, so far as I can tell."

"Is it dead then?" Dalton asked.

"It took its time dying," Rissa muttered and Dalton realized that Gregory had a hand wrapped around one of her shoulders.

This was somewhat surprising, though it made more sense after they'd finished describing their fight—with some editing, Dalton suspected. Combat had a way of connecting people. And Rissa—whose shoulder it was—didn't seem to mind. Vina did though; she gazed for moment as though she felt Gregory's fingers burning her own shoulder and then lowered her eyes to her empty bowl.

"And then we hobbled straight back here," Rissa finished the story and glanced quickly from Penelope to Dalton. Then she stepped away to visit the healer.

"Right," Dalton said finally. "Well, that's one down. We'll get some sleep and track down the others in the morning."

"Start early," the farmer advised. "They seem most active around sunrise an' sunset."

"Thanks. Do you need an escort back to your home?"

"I reckon I'm too old an' gristly to appeal to 'em," He nodded at Penelope once more and started down the hillside, making for his house.

Dalton posted another evening watch and ordered the remaining men to their tents. They obeyed instantly, exhausted by the cold. Except for Selena who lingered uncertainly by the central fire.

"Do you not have a tent?" Dalton asked her, suddenly suspicious.

"Whoever you put in charge of gear miscalculated." Selena spoke quietly, but her tone made it clear the mistake had been deliberate. "And I didn't like to ask any of the men to share—too much room for miscommunication. Especially since they're packed about five to a tent."

"Ugh," Vina remarked.

"So, I've just been sleeping in my bedroll, but the weather's a little wetter tonight."

"You should have said something," Dalton said.

She shrugged. "Blame Wyldon."

"There's room by us," Rissa offered quickly.

"They're going to have a lot to say about me in the morning," Dalton muttered a few minutes later as he surveyed the four women curled up in his tent. Rissa and Vina were twined around each other in a compact ball and Selena had her back nestled against them from warmth.

Penelope snorted softly against his chest without bothering to open her eyes. Dalton pressed his lips to her hair and let his own eyes drift shut.

"Selena," Vina murmured a short while later. "You know that odd ditch I fell in on patrol?"

"Mmmph."

"I think it was a footprint." Vina yawned helplessly. "From the big one."

"Mithros!" Selena hissed. "She's right."

"All the more reason to face it well rested," Penelope muttered, rolling her head over his arm to keep him from sitting up in alarm.

PDPD

A loud shout woke Penelope. She recognized Marcel's voice and stifled a groan as Dalton sat up and reached for his boots. She shoved her feet into her own and they both hurried in the direction of the sound, scrambling to find their footing in the dark.

Marcel's yell was followed by a fainter cry—from Garth—and they doubled their pace, barely aware of Selena and the twins behind them and the rest of camp trailing after.

"Down this way," someone shouted.

They started unthinkingly down the hillside, immediately tripped in the snow-buried bracken, and wound up tumbling sideways most of the way down. Dalton landed squarely on top of Penelope at the end of the slope, knocking the wind out of both of them.

"Are you hurt?" he gasped, levering himself onto his elbows.

Penelope blinked dazedly up at him. "Marcel set us up. I'm going to kill him." Then she paused to consider his question. "Not seriously. And you?"

"Good," he muttered. "I'm about to succumb to an unprofessional impulse," he warned, lowering his lips for a lingering kiss. Penelope tilted her face to meet his, momentarily forgetting about monsters and responsibility.

"That look's cozy," someone muttered. Penelope opened her eyes to find that most of the command had picked their way carefully down the hill to gape amusedly at their leader. Even Garth was grinning as he held a rag to his arm to staunch the bleeding.

"Aside from the snow," Gregory remarked, almost genially.

"And rather interesting." Marcel's tone was far nastier. "I'd always wondered about those two."

Penelope and Dalton blinked at one another, their bodies rippling with silent laughter.

"At least now we know Dalton's on top," Marcel added smugly.

Penelope quirked her lips to one side as though to ask, _Shall we?_

Dalton raised one eyebrow and gave a barely perceptible nod as he stood up.

"Only sometimes," Penelope asserted, springing to her feet without any assistance.

"We do take turns," Dalton explained. "Something you'd consider," he informed Marcel in a carrying stage whisper, "if your fiancée—or any other woman—had any interest in sharing your bed."

"Luckily for all concerned," Selena put in, making a heroic effort to keep a straight face, "we've no such inclination."

Gregory raised one sardonic eyebrow at Marcel, nodded at Penelope and Dalton, and broke into slow applause. The rest of the company followed suit. Garth whistled as Penelope stepped close to Dalton and kissed his jaw.

"Either we've put a permanent damper on speculation about our private life," Dalton muttered as they brushed the snow off of each other, "or we're going to wind up outdoing Alanna and George."

She grinned. "Both very appealing possibilities."

PDPD

"Right," Dalton said, turning to Garth and Marcel once the camp had quieted. "What's all this about then?"

"Little one attacked us—pounced on me like a cat toying with a mouse." Garth held out his injured arm. "I think the commotion startled it off."

"How big is little?" Vina asked.

Garth frowned. "The kitten's about twice the size of a lion and three times as agile." There was a low growl from the woods, as though the creature was unsatisfied with this description.

The wind stirred bitterly and the creature started prowling forward, the snow crunching faintly beneath its paws.

Dalton drew his sword, preparing to lead a charge against it. Before he could, however, several horse screams and a great ripping sound filled the air.

"That'll be the big one tearing up our tents and attacking our animals," Garth muttered.

"No help for it," Dalton said. "We'll have to split up." Though he wasn't sure if even the entire camp would be able to tackle the massive cat, let alone a reduced force. How many men could he spare?

"I'll tackle the small one then," Penelope muttered. "We ought to be evenly matched."

Dalton nodded reluctantly and squeezed her shoulder.

"You're not just going to let your wife…" Garth murmured.

"At least I don't have to order her out there."

"Don't let yours roll down the hill and land on me," Penelope said, drawing her sword and starting into the wood. "I'm not sure our reputation would hold up."

PDPD

Rissa lagged behind the others as they marched back up the hill. A hand closed around her wrist as she reached the top and dragged her behind a tree. She panicked, reaching for her dagger, and then recognized Greg and raised an eyebrow at him.

"I wanted to wish you luck," he explained, taking her shoulders. "Properly."

Their lips met suddenly and Rissa savored every instant of the middle-of-the-night-and-ready-for-battle kiss.

PDPD

Dalton spotted them, recognized a headache in the making, and couldn't quite bring himself to wish that Gregory would nip the problem in the bud by dying heroically in battle.

Especially when Gregory stepped up to him and said quietly. "Sir, I've got an idea." He tore off his tunic and soaked it in brandy before wrapping it round a piece of firewood. "I don't think it'll like fire."

Dalton nodded and signaled to the nearest men—actually to Selena, Vina, and Rissa as well as Luke and Tomas—_distract it. _

PDPD

Selena went numb from fear and cold when the massive paw hit her, sending her tumbling across the snow. She curled into a ball, convinced it was over. Which wasn't at all fair, she thought, because she hadn't had a chance to say goodbye—or even I-love-you—to Jeck.

This thought was just enough to make her tighten her grip on her sword—the one he'd forged for her—and swing at the jaws that came to enclose her. She sliced through the creature's lip and severed the tip of one fang. Then she had to curl up once more under a barrage of dart-like icicles, ignoring those that pierced her skin.

She was ready when the massive paw swiped again and she sliced open the central pad, hobbling the beast.

It yowled louder than she had imagined would be possible in response. Then she realized that Gregory had managed to set fire to its tail.

When Dalton launched flames at its snout and shouted for her to get clear, Selena obeyed instantly.

PDPD

Even after it had caught fire, it took a long smoky slaughter to kill the creature. It stopped spitting icicles immediately, but they still had to take care to avoid being trampled by the giant paws. And the flaming tail was a serious hazard.

It was dawn by the thing finally collapsed in a motionless heap, though the heavy snow returned to darken the campsite and it took Dalton several minutes to search it and realize that Penelope hadn't yet returned. Which meant she was still down below with—

His dash down the hillside was interrupted by a triumphant shout.

"I think I might be madly in love with your wife, sir," one of the men called as Penelope reappeared, sword in hand.

Dalton shrugged, too relieved to glare at the man. "Me too," he muttered fervently.

"Assuming I'm not too cold to count properly," Penelope mumbled once she'd finished climbing up the hillside and seen the body, "that was the third and we can get out of this infernal ice storm."

"I think perhaps your verbal logic needs thawing," Dalton muttered. Then his, admittedly cold brain, hit upon the 'third'; his pleasure at seeing Penelope alive had kept him from realizing that _it _was dead. "Stow the gear," he called. "We're leaving."

_So, thanks for reading and reviewing (and worrying about Rissa—Penelope and I are too!)_

_A brief preview of chapter 4:_

Wyldon and Jeck were both already there, standing a wary five feet from one another and watching Selena with worried eyes and hidden smiles. Greyson, Wyldon's dog, barked imperiously and Selena threw herself off her horse to scratch Greyson's ears, peck Wyldon's cheek, and settle in Jeck's arms. Wyldon blinked tolerantly.

_It will be fluffy; you have been warned. _


	4. What would Wyldon do?

_Welcome back beloved readers! I got a mixed response to Gregory and Rissa, which is fantastic because I'm not sure how I feel about them either—they just sort of happened while I was typing. But they're going to keep things interesting for the next few chapters. To answer reader questions,__Gregory is around Dalton's age (19) so he and Rissa (she's 15ish) are 4-5 years apart. And he has changed—dramatically—but he's still Gregory and I'm still a little worried…Anyway, this chapter takes place immediately after the last one. As always, I'm bringing my characters along to disconcert a few locals on Tamora Pierce's real estate. Enjoy!_

The cold weather accompanied them back to Corus, driving them at such a pace that they managed the journey in one day, reaching the gates around twilight. The men began scattering—running desperately for brandy or firesides or hot baths or hearty stew or some combination—even before they'd dismounted.

Selena, however, waited patiently for an official dismissal until Dalton tapped her arm. "Just go find Jeck," he ordered, imagining himself in the smith's position. "And maybe Wyl—never mind."

Wyldon and Jeck were both already there, standing a wary five feet from one another and watching Selena with worried eyes and hidden smiles. Greyson, Wyldon's dog, barked imperiously and Selena threw herself off her horse to scratch Greyson's ears, peck Wyldon's cheek, and settle in Jeck's arms. Wyldon blinked tolerantly.

"Evening sir," Rissa and Vina chorused, dismounting to let Greyson lick their faces.

"The king will want a brief report now and details in writing tomorrow," Wyldon explained as they saw to their horses. Jeck helped Selena and Rissa; Wyldon helped Penelope and Vina; and a stable hand led Dalton's mount away so that he had no excuse to postpone his duty.

"Right, thanks, sir," he said quickly.

Penelope squeezed his fingers for luck. "I'll meet you back in our room with food and hot wash water."

Dalton nodded and hurried to face the king, trying to convince himself that it was enough to have completed the requested task; he couldn't be blamed for all the ruined tents and the burns on so many of the men.

PDPD

"Wyldon won't like—"

"I don't care," Selena mumbled, burrowing against Jeck as though she could soak in his warmth. "He's probably halfway to his quarters by now and I'm freezing."

"You're alive," Jeck marveled.

Selena nodded without pulling her cheek away from his shoulder. She no longer felt dead on her feet. Especially when Jeck nudged her gently in the direction of the smithy and promised her a hot meal.

"You can cook?" she asked as they climbed the stairs to his room over the smithy.

"Jason—the other assistant smith—can cook. I'm adept at warming leftover stew." Jeck pushed open his door and helped Selena out of her cloak.

She glanced around the room, which was so small that it was rapidly growing familiar even though she'd visited it only a few times before. Always, she was surprised that such a tall man could live so comfortably in such a small space—it fit little more than a bed, a small table, a stool (which was draped with clothing and equipment), and a fireplace. And, she noticed, a sizable pile of daggers beside the door.

"I did a lot of tinkering while you were away," Jeck explained as he hung a small pot over the coals and stirred them into a proper blaze.

"I see," Selena murmured, coming to help Jeck slice bread and cheese for toasting.

"I kept imagining the worst, you know."

"Oh. I didn't—"

"But I was reasonably certain you didn't mean for that awkwardness in your corridor to be a final farewell. And Wyldon put on a confident front."

"You spoke to—"

"I had to find out where you'd disappeared to."

Selena bit her lip. "I'm sorry. I didn't—I should have—I didn't want to wake you." She came to the end of the loaf and had to stop slicing bread. "I'm sorry," she repeated.

"You're forgiven," Jeck whispered. He pulled the knife from her hand and leant forward to kiss her forehead. "But only because you've still breathing."

Selena blinked. "I had to come back to you," she muttered, glancing away. "I realized how desperately I love you and—"

Jeck kissed her, leaving her breathless. "I hope this means you're vaguely aware of how desperately I love you."

"Vaguely," Selena agreed, stepping into his open arms. "That's why I got so angry when I thought I'd be killed," she mumbled into his shirt. "I can't really imagine dying—it's just too big—and all I could think was that I'd never see you again and—"

"Easy," Jeck murmured, stroking her hair as a dry sob wracked her body.

Selena tried to nod and shuddered, wondering how she'd managed to hold herself together during the fight only to fall to pieces in his arms. Perhaps it was simply the knowledge that he'd put her safely back together again.

"Hey," Jeck murmured, helping her sit on the foot of the bed, "you're tired and cold." He ladled stew into a bowl and set it in her hands. "You can tell me about all your near misses after you've eaten."

PDPD

"Rissa," Penelope called, "would you mind helping me carry Dalton's gear back to our room?"

Both twins emerged from their stalls, eyeing one another nervously as they considered the way Penelope had singled Rissa out. Vina glanced quickly at Penelope and then the ground before offering to oil Rissa's saddle for her.

Rissa shrugged and scooped up Dalton's pack, moving so quickly that Penelope had to hurry to catch up with her. This was actually rather useful as it kept Penelope from hesitating over her word choice.

"Rissa, sometimes when two people save one another's lives, they come away closer and that—"

"What happened between me and Gregory is none of your business," Rissa snapped.

"It is my business to make sure you understand that you cannot repay someone for saving your life and that there are limits to what you owe him—or her—afterwards. You owe thanks, and respect, and an effort to preserve your rescuer's life in return. Not gold or flattery or adoration." Penelope glanced at Rissa's deliberately blank face. "Or kisses."

"And you and Dalton are the exception," Rissa muttered. "As always."

"What Dalton and I feel for each other goes far beyond survivors' relief." Penelope sighed, doubting that she would ever find the right words for Rissa. "We trust and understand one another. And we're friends off the battlefield and—"

"And you don't trust Gregory," Rissa cut in. "Therefore, I'm not allowed to."

"Gregory saved my life once," Penelope pointed out. "It doesn't—"

"You should have said something then. I doubt he's still pining for you."

"That was the night I agreed to marry Dalton."

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"I don't know," Penelope admitted as they reached her door.

"Good of you to be honest about it," Rissa hissed. Shrugging, she set down Dalton's gear and left without saying goodnight. At least, Penelope reflected, she wasn't waiting around outside Gregory's door.

"Just think carefully," Penelope told her squire's departing back, "and don't do anything just because you feel obligated."

PDPD

"Neal," Penelope announced, sticking her head in the infirmary door. "I want to take this moment to apologize for each and every time I refused to listen to your invaluable advice."

Neal lifted his head from his reading. "I take it your squires have given you ample reason to reflect on your own youth." He stood and took her shoulders. "Since you obviously have yet to take my instructions regarding hypothermia to heart." He used a little gift in an attempt to warm her and shook his head when he saw how little effect it had.

Penelope shrugged off this effort in order to focus on the matter at hand.

"Sir, what would you have done if I'd become—"she frowned—"unwisely involved with—"

"Should Dalton be worried?"

"About Rissa? Yes, definitely." She frowned. "I'm not sure he knows though."

"At least that suggests that he isn't the one—"Neal spotted Penelope's glare and changed tracts. "You haven't told him?"

"We were busy slaying enormous snow cats. There wasn't much time for conjugal conversation. Or conjugal anything for that matter."

"Don't talk to me about deprivation until you have two small children and an infirmary to run," Neal muttered darkly.

"Let's preserve our collective dignity and permanently postpone that discussion," Penelope said. "And you can tell me what you'd do if you found Gregory and Rissa kissing and—"

"Are you sure they weren't just—"

"Like George and Alanna," Penelope clarified. "Meeting after weeks apart. Only they were still finding out where each other's noses are." She yawned and blinked. "And she won't even acknowledge it to me."

"Well, whatever you do, don't forbid her to see him."

Penelope blinked again.

Neal grinned. "I seem to recall an incident in which I told you 'Penelope, don't try to walk across that log' and was shortly thereafter rewarded by watching said log give way beneath your admittedly light weight. Upon which I had the unpleasant task of hauling my waterlogged squire from yet another cold creek and advising her yet again on the perils of hypothermia." He frowned at her, convinced that that particular lesson hadn't ever sunk in properly.

"So what should I do?"

"Seriously, Penelope. You're so cold you're barely shivering anymore. Get out of your wet clothes. Get cleaned up. Get some supper. Sleep. And deal with it in a few days. When it makes more sense."

Penelope nodded numbly, wondering why she appreciated his good advice so much more now that she wasn't supposed to need it. She brushed her forehead against his shoulder and set off to follow it.

"And Penelope," he called after her. "You might have to watch her make a few mistakes. Try not to bite your tongue so hard you snip a piece off—that's always a hassle to fix."

PDPD

"Do you think this snow will last all night?" Jeck asked.

They'd eaten sitting cross-legged on his bed and stacked their dishes on the floor when they finished. And Selena had talked her way through a slightly edited (omitting rude remarks from certain knights and an intimate conversation with Dalton) account of the mission. Now, Selena was slumped halfway into Jeck's lap and they were idly voicing whatever thoughts popped into their minds.

"Probably," she muttered, reluctantly forcing herself upright and shoving her feet into her still-wet boots, "much as I'll hate walking back in it." She did the laces of her boots slowly, grimacing at the thought of leaving Jeck's arms and his warm little room.

"You don't have to anywhere," Jeck murmured, taking her hands as she stood to kiss him goodnight.

Selena automatically backed away, trying to ignore her heart's sudden lurching and the faint tickle of the charm hanging against her chest, both of which seemed to be in emphatic agreement with Jeck.

"Jeck," she whispered tightly, almost choking on her regret, "I couldn't—I shouldn't—"she swallowed.

Jeck nodded and stood to offer her her cloak. "Sorry," he mumbled, brushing his thumb over her cheek. Then he kissed her so tenderly that Selena fervently hoped he wasn't sorry. "I can never forget that the brave, beautiful woman before me is a lady knight, but sometimes I forget—perhaps even deliberately—what the rest of Tortall expects of her."

Selena nodded miserably, though she'd resolved to stop worrying about others' opinions, and set unwilling fingers on the doorknob. "Wyldon would—" she bit her lip, and then smiled at the realization that she was free to live and love as she chose—"be horrified if he knew I'd mentioned him just now." She dropped her cloak to the floor and plunged defiantly into Jeck's arms.

"No doubt," Jeck muttered, freeing her hair and running his hands through it as though seeking proof of her presence.

She kicked off her boots and lifted her gaze to his face. "I'm tired of being Wyldon's former squire and Tortall's fourth lady knight."

Jeck kissed her temple. "Just be with me then," he whispered, spinning her in a slow circle.

PDPD

Dalton traced Penelope's pensive frown with one finger. "Worrying about Rissa?" he asked.

"You noticed?" Penelope grabbed her dressing gown and her comb, both of she'd hastily abandoned when Dalton emerged from his bath.

"It's a miracle the rest of camp didn't." He sighed. "Or maybe they were all just too cold to tease Rissa and Gregory about their unsuccessful attempt to weld their faces together. And he saw me too—grinned very ostentatiously at me afterwards." Dalton punched irritably at one of the pillows. "I think annoying us is part of the appeal."

Penelope grimaced as her comb hit a particularly vicious tangle. "For her too."

Dalton winced. "We're hardly—she's kissed her way through most of the Riders and we haven't said a word. And—assuming responsible behavior--"he winced again—"I wouldn't object to blacksmiths, stablehands, or fellow squires. Our moral high ground there is—"

"Somewhere underwater." Penelope wriggled her comb free and started from the bottom. "But Gregory! Can you think of anyone we'd disapprove of more?"

"Marcel."

"He's so slimy you can practically watch him melt into primordial ooze," Penelope muttered.

"Someone married or old or both," Dalton offered.

"The girl has some small modicum of sense remaining." Penelope jerked hard on the comb, removing an entire clump of hair from her scalp. "Not enough to take any advice from me." She scowled. "Maybe she's just following Gregory's lead."

"Have you ever known Rissa to follow anyone's lead?"

Penelope started braiding her hair too tightly. "I suppose we should be grateful Vina isn't attached as well."

Dalton frowned momentarily before correcting her. "We should be grateful Gregory's being sent south to deal with a Spidren infestation."

"Good," Penelope whispered fervently, tying off her braid and settling against his shoulder. "Why didn't you tell me earlier?"

He nosed her temple. "I thought we were concerned with Rissa," he muttered innocently. He smothered her scowl with a kiss before adding, "and it's only a brief reprieve."

Penelope sighed. "Well then I suppose Gregory'll have to use it to do something earth shatteringly worthwhile."

PDPD

Selena was accustomed to rising early, but, between her utter exhaustion and the security of Jeck's arms, she slept through the first inklings of sunrise. In fact, a sudden hammering from the smithy below startled her upright, memories of the giant cat chasing through her mind.

"Easy," Jeck murmured, smoothing her hair. "It's just Jason starting work."

Selena lowered her head back to the warmth of his chest, but did not shut her eyes. She was too intent on studying Jeck's face.

"Are you all right?" he whispered.

She tilted her head and smiled at him. "Of course. I haven't slept so well in a long time."

"Good." His fingers trailed over her neck and along her collarbone. "I wouldn't want you to regret—"

Selena stopped his hand by lacing her fingers through his. "I would have regretted leaving alone last night." She lifted her head just enough to peer out his window and kiss his chin. "Even after it stopped snowing." She sighed contentedly and rolled over in his arms.

"It is an awfully long, dark walk from the smithy to the knights' wing," Jeck murmured, his voice muffled by her hair.

"I plan on avoiding it frequently," Selena promised, basking in the warmth of his contented sigh.

PDPD

Dalton had just finished writing up Rissa and Gregory's account of the first snow cat when Penelope returned to their room.

"That was an awfully fast practice," he told her.

"Selena appears to have slept in," she explained, pouring two mugs of tea and passing him one before adding milk and sugar to the other. Then she settled her head on his shoulder to look over the report.

"Good for her." He took a few scalding sips. "I hope you didn't knock on her door."

"And alert our hall to her unexplained absence?" She blew on her tea.

"I wouldn't dream of it."

PDPD

"Sweetheart." Jeck's voice summoned Selena from her light doze. "I hate to dislodge you, but the eighth bell's about to toll. I was expected down below a few minutes ago and I think you're—"

"supposed to be on the practice courts very soon," Selena finished. She kissed him briefly and then rolled out of bed to grab her clothes, aware that they were grimy from her recent expedition but too happy to care. Her gear was still piled outside Jeck's door.

A few minutes later she and Jeck stumbled down to the smithy, where Jason waved cheerfully at her but was apparently too busy—or too decent—to make any lewd remarks. She squeezed Jeck's hand and ran for the pages' practice.

"Sorry I'm late," Selena gasped as she reached the practice courts.

"Quite understandable after yesterday," Mindelan said kindly, patting Selena's shoulder and leaving her fighting down a violent blush.

Wyldon grunted his assent, but frowned across the court as though realizing that she'd come from the wrong direction.

"Thanks for dropping off my knife," Penelope added for his benefit. "Does Jeck think it can be mended?"

"Yes, definitely." Selena smiled. "He'll give the matter his full attention."

Penelope raised an eyebrow.

Rissa pulled her lips into an O. "Naturally."

Fortunately Mindelan's shout interrupted any further comments.

"Line up and spread out. You're going to practice falling until all of you can be trusted not to impale yourselves on a weapon as you do it." She surveyed the pages critically. "Or at least for the next hour."

"Whichever comes first," Kefira added from her perch on the fence.

It was a very long morning. And Selena did her best to throw herself into it, but Wyldon soon noticed her fatigue and distraction. He took her by the shoulder when the pages were dismissed for lunch.

"I heard you took a bit of a beating from the snow cat," he remarked. "Maybe you should take it easy this afternoon—perhaps go visit Jeck."

Penelope, who'd overheard this suggestion, barely managed to transform her laugh into a cough. Dalton clapped her on the back and escorted her away before she could do any further damage, leaving Selena to bid Wyldon goodbye and obey his advice.

PDPD

"Back already?" Jason greeted Selena, shouting to be heard over his work at the anvil. He glanced back at Jeck, who grinned broadly.

"What can I say?" Selena shrugged out of her cloak. "At least it's warm in here."

"Aye, that it is," Jason remarked, watching Selena wrap her fingers over Jeck's bare arms.

Jeck turned around to kiss her and clear a space on one of the benches, where Selena sat down to watch him work. And promptly fell asleep, completely undisturbed by the clamor now that she'd gotten used to it.

"Doesn't mind noise much, does she?" Jason muttered in between blades. "I suppose soldiers sleep sweetly when they can."

"Sweetly," Jeck agreed, "and heavily." He grunted slightly as he scooped her into his arms.

"That's why I court seamstresses," Jason remarked, holding the door for them.

Jeck shook his head, smiling, and pressed his lips to Selena's forehead, carrying her up to his room.

"Make yourself at home," he whispered, depositing her on the bed. She answered with a faint, melodious snore.

_So, hope you enjoyed. The next chapter is mostly written, though Gregory is threatening to highjack it, and will hopefully be up by the end of the weekend. I say hopefully because I am forcing myself to send out a certain quote of agent queries for my original novel in between each chapter posting. Self-discipline is such a double-edged sword…_

_Preview of the next chapter: _

"So Dalton, how's the harem?"

Dalton didn't even bother drawing his sword, but simply knocked Marcel's legs out from underneath him, toppling him to the ground.

"They send their compliments," he muttered, resisting the urge to kick Marcel's head, as he continued towards Dom and Neal.


	5. Pregnant Pause

_Hello again and many thanks to everyone who reviewed. I can promise we'll see more of Gregory and Rissa—I'm still not entirely sure what I think of them either—now that Selena and Jeck are settled. But Penelope and Dalton have a bit to think about first… This chapter takes place about three weeks after the previous one and features character and real estate belonging to Tamora Pierce. _

Dalton stayed late at the practice courts, knowing that Penelope was out riding with Selena and wouldn't be back until evening. He was just turning to join Dom and Neal at the edge of the practice court when Marcel stepped up beside him, smirking.

"So Dalton, how's the harem?"

Dalton didn't even bother drawing his sword, but simply knocked Marcel's legs out from underneath him, toppling him to the ground.

"They send their compliments," he muttered, resisting the urge to kick Marcel's head, as he continued towards Dom and Neal.

"And I thought you didn't have a temper to loose," Dom said, clapping Dalton's shoulder approvingly.

Dalton shrugged, already almost calm again. "I'd appreciate it if you didn't mention that to—"

"You're not afraid of your wife and squires, are you?" Neal asked impishly.

"No. I'm practical. There are three of them."

Neal nodded thoughtfully. "Perhaps the ugly lecher had a point then. That's probably enough for a harem."

"Excuse my cousin's suicidal sense of humor," Dom said, slinging an arm over each of their shoulders, "and I'll buy the first round of drinks."

There were several rounds of drinks, three heaping plates of roast and potatoes, and a few bouts of off-key singing before they parted ways.

PDPD

Dalton found Penelope seated at their tiny table, furiously polishing an already gleaming dagger.

"What's wrong?"

His head was still pleasantly fuzzy, but he managed to catch the word 'late' in her reply.

"I know. I'm sorry. Dom and Neal got carried away with the toasts."

"I meant me," she said, scrunching her polishing rag in her hands, which were shaking slightly. "I'm late."

Dalton blinked uncertainly.

She dropped her gaze, blushing. "I'm always…I should have--"she swallowed and would not look at him.

He sat rather abruptly on the bed as his tired brain began sorting though one year of marriage and a few awkward conversations with Lady Alanna. And, of course, that terrifying morning when Neal had told him Penelope was having twins. The room's swaying became suddenly more violent.

"But," he managed finally, feeling almost grateful that his thoughts were swimming so sluggishly—they seemed to be cushioning him from the sudden jolt of it. "Charm."

"I must have torn it off when I was rushing to get out of my freezing wet clothes after we got back from killing the ice cats." She stood, marched to their washbasin, and brought him a mug of cold water to drink. "And I didn't notice for five days. It's back on now."

Dalton drank all the water in one go. "But that doesn't mean—"

"I'm always with Rissa and Vina," she said, scrubbing gently at his face with a cold wet cloth and bringing him fully awake, "but it's been eight days since…"

Dalton flinched. "I'm not sure they would want me to know…"

"Vina would be mortified," Penelope agreed, laughing so suddenly and so hard that she had to sit beside him on the bed. Dalton watched this uneasily, fervently hoping it wasn't a symptom of…He settled one tentative hand on her shoulder.

"Sorry," she said. "I keep forgetting that you're their Neal." She shook her head. "He's a healer and he still managed to be surprised the few times I mentioned it." She winced with remembered embarrassment.

"Lady Alanna has a lot to say about the phenomenon. She calls it deliberate male obliviousness."

Penelope nodded and dropped her gaze back to her feet.

Dalton gathered her hands in his own. "So," he said slowly, "what you're telling me is that you might be erm, but it's—you're not certain."

Penelope bit her lip and nodded swiftly, looking more frightened than she had the last time they'd faced a pair of angry centaurs.

"It's too soon to ask Neal," she added.

"Then it's probably too soon to worry about it." He realized this was a mistake as soon as he'd said it.

"Sorry," he said, pulling her into his arms. "Even if you are"—he paused to kiss her forehead—"it won't be the end of the world. Far from it." She stiffened in his embrace. "We can handle this."

"Speak for yourself," she snapped, standing up. "I can't and I'm the one who—"

"I'm sorry," Dalton said and she stuffed her feet into her boots. "This is probably my faul—"

"I'm not angry." She whipped her bootlaces together as though trying to strangle her ankles. "I'm not angry at you," she amended. "I can't blame you for having done something I wanted at the time."

"Still, I should have…" Dalton didn't know how to finish. Preventing a pregnancy had always been Penelope's responsibility. She'd always been the one wearing the charm. He'd checked on that first midwinter night they'd spent together to be sure she had one but had rarely thought of it since.

Penelope sighed in a bewildered sort of way. "I don't want us to—I just need some fresh air. And you need some sleep. I'll come back soon and I want—I need—you to be here." She sighed. "Maybe this will all seem better in the morning." She brushed her lips against his and stepped out the door, leaving him to tumble into bed and hope for the best.

PDPD

Dalton woke a few hours later as Penelope, wet and cold, crawled under the covers and into his arms.

"I'm not," she whispered gleefully.

"You mean you're…" He couldn't quite finish that thought aloud.

She took pity on him and let out a sound halfway between a hiccup and a laugh.

"You're not usually this cheerful about—"

"New perspective," Penelope muttered sheepishly. She'd actually smiled when the first knifelike cramp hit, though they were rapidly growing unwelcome. Late and vengeful, she thought, like a horrible relative.

She burrowed close against him, trying to warm herself. She had not thought to wear her cloak when she went out to pace the practice courts.

Dalton tucked the blankets up and waited for her to stop shivering and roll over so that they were spooning comfortably.

"Goodnight," he murmured and kissed her ear.

"Dalton?"

"Hmmm?"

"It wouldn't have been the end of the world," she said in a small voice, one he hadn't heard since their squire years.

He rolled her over so that he could see her face. "That's what I told you."

"That's what scared me." She let out a long unsteady breath. "And I know you want—but I couldn't—I wouldn't be a good—"

"It's not your fault your mother died giving birth to you," he murmured. "There should have been someone like Neal looking after both of you."

She gasped softly at this revelation, wondering why no one had told her this before. She blinked tears, but did not say anything.

"When I watched Wilda fall asleep in your arms the other day—" he paused—"I don't have the words for that."

"Perhaps, when you're all the way sober," she teased shakily.

He chuckled and kissed her cheek. "It wouldn't have been the end of the world," he said again. "But I'm glad not to have it sprung on us like that. It wouldn't be fair to Vina and Rissa. And given our living situation—I'm going to watch this." He brushed his fingers along the chain at her neck. "I should—".

She stopped Dalton's lips with her fingers. "What was her word? Obliviousness?"

He chuckled against her hand and she laughed softly in response, propping herself up on one elbow.

"Maybe." She swallowed. "When the twins are knighted—we could get a bigger room." She settled her head on the pillow. "I'm not saying—"

"I know." Dalton grinned. "We hardly have room for ourselves here. But we have money now. It could be negotiated."

She smiled tiredly and let her eyes fall shut.

Dalton settled his own cheek on the pillow, brushing a few strands of her hair clear of his nose.

"Pen?" he murmured. "Remind me never to drink with Dom and Neal again. My head feels like its been trampled by a whole herd of Rider ponies."

"Mine too."

"At least you don't have only yourself to blame for it."

"And that makes it better how?"

"I'll explain when I'm fully sober," he muttered. But he lifted his fingers to trace soothing circles over her brow until her breathing softened.

"You know," she whispered when he stopped, "you've said that about Dom and Neal before. It never seems to take."

"It will this time."

"I wouldn't mind if it didn't," she said absently, "you uh, handled that well."

Dalton privately thought his calm might be due in part to the satisfaction of watching Marcel hit the ground.

"So," he muttered, "how would you feel if we postponed the twins' dawn practice and just slept in?"

She settled her head against his shoulder. "Completely justified."

PDPD

Unfortunately, Rissa had other ideas. She knocked bright and early on their door to tell them that the queen had announced an impromptu ball to be held that evening and to beg for permission to spend the day in Corus acquiring a dress.

"Won't the squires be expected to serve?" Penelope muttered.

"Not this time," Vina said quietly. "And everyone in residence at the palace is invited—servants included."

"Very well," Penelope muttered as Dalton came to drape an arm over her shoulders and gaze sleepily at the twins.

"Thanks," Vina murmured for Rissa as she trotted cheerfully away. Vina, however, stood stock still as though waiting expectantly for something.

Penelope realized groggily that Vina was dressed in sturdy practice clothes, not for a trip to the markets.

"Aren't you going with her?" Dalton asked.

Vina shook her head. "I don't need a dress for a ball I'm not going to." She blushed defiantly. "But if Rissa's getting the whole day off, then I'd like to go visit some friends in the Rider barracks after we finish our glaive work," she said, taking morning glaive work as an absolute certainty.

Penelope couldn't resist such dedication. "Fine. Just give me a minute to change and we'll get it over with."

She left Dalton standing sleepily in the doorway. He had just opened his mouth to ask Vina why she wasn't going when Gregory emerged from his own door.

Vina shuffled instinctively closer to Dalton.

"Good morning." Gregory nodded at both of them. "Sir Dalton, Lady Levina."

"Morning." Dalton answered through gritted teeth. "I hope your mission went well."

"Yes, thanks. I just returned last night. I'm glad to have made it time for the ball." Gregory smiled politely at both of them and continued down the hall, leaving Dalton to wonder how Rissa knew—for it was clearly a motivating factor in her trip to town—about his return.

Vina swallowed as he rounded the corner. "He can tell us apart," she whispered.

"Well," Penelope muttered, appearing in fresh clothes. "That is impressive."

Vina shrugged, clearly eager to drop the subject. "Should I knock on Selena's door?"

One glance at Penelope's delicate smirk confirmed Dalton's suspicion that Selena had spent the evening with Jeck.

"I'm sure she'll join us out there if she wants to," Penelope said, smiling.

PDPD

Selena did join them midway through their work and she lingered even after Vina had been dismissed to the Rider barracks.

Dalton frowned as he watched Visa hurry off. "Is it, you know, normal for her not to want to go to the ball?"

Selena cocked her head to side and frowned in a puzzled sort of way. His wife exercised no such polite restraint and actually grabbed his arm to keep from falling over as she laughed, still slightly hysterical from the strain and relief of the previous evening.

"What's so funny?"

"Normal—"Penelope whooped—"girl squire." Then she started laughing again and Selena joined her, confirming Dalton's theory that it was catching.

"I'm…" Selena managed between giggles, "not…going."

Penelope sobered instantly. "I suppose we'll have to," she muttered grimly.

"We can't very well leave Rissa and Gregory unsupervised," Dalton muttered.

Selena blinked, frowning, and then smiled. "And I thought I was hallucinating in the cold when I saw them…" She shook her head. "Anyway, Vina's probably just a bit confused. Quite understandably."

Dalton, who'd seen the very firm dislike on Vina's face as she eyed Gregory, raised an eyebrow.

"She's got a dilemma before her," Selena explained. "Should she kill Rissa or Gregory first?"

"And how?" Penelope chimed in.

PDPD

"Need help?" Dalton asked as Penelope slipped into the gown Grania had sent her.

Penelope grinned and passed him the letter that Grania had sent to accompany it.

_It does lace up in back, _she'd warned. _But at least you'll be able to breathe (and eat! And move!) Dalton's a reasonably intelligent fellow. I think he'll be able to manage tying you in. And I've complete faith in his ability to get you out afterwards. _

Dalton scowled and gestured for her to spin around. "Remind me to retaliate when she comes to visit," he murmured, fingering one of her shoulder blades before he set to work.

Apparently Grania had not overestimated his intelligence and he finished in about a minute. "There." He kissed the back of her neck. "Turn around."

She spun and smiled as she watched his eyes widen.

"Gran's brilliant," he muttered.

Penelope glanced in the mirror, taking in the twilight blue silk that highlighted both her eyes and her slim figure and couldn't help nodding in agreement. "Still want that reminder?"

"No." Dalton kissed her thoroughly. "I think not." Then he took her arm and they prepared to march to the evening's battlefield.

_Sorry about the cliffie—the ball has grown into it's own (epic) chapter, which I'll try to have up in a few days so you can see a bit more of Gregory. _

_In the meantime, thanks for reading and reviewing, and enjoy our preview:_

"Wyldon probably won't approve," Penelope muttered, eyeing Rissa's low-cut gold silk dress. "But I'm not going to say anything; she'd only accuse me of hypocrisy and it does bring out her eyes nicely."

"Among other features." Dalton glanced apologetically at Penelope who only laughed.

"Good. I was beginning to wonder if I should ask Neal to check your eyes."


	6. Steps

_At long last…after unfortunate interference from Real Life…the promised ball and its ensuing complications. Obviously this chapter takes place just a few minutes after the previous one and contains characters (and a capital city) created by Tamora Pierce. _

"Wyldon probably won't approve," Penelope muttered, eyeing Rissa's low-cut gold silk dress. "But I'm not going to say anything; she'd only accuse me of hypocrisy and it does bring out her eyes nicely."

"Among other features." Dalton glanced apologetically at Penelope who only laughed.

"Good. I was beginning to wonder if I should ask Neal to check your eyes."

Dalton stifferned and Penelope turned to find Gregory bowing politely to her. She took a death grip on Dalton's fingers and managed to curtsey back.

"Might I have this dance, lady knight?"

She nodded mutely and took the hand he offered, operating under the assumption that he could not seduce Rissa while he was dancing with her. He kissed her fingers—politely, but for slightly longer than necessary—and swept her out onto the dance floor.

"What do you want?" she demanded.

He smirked. "I couldn't very well ask Dalton to dance, could I?" He glanced ironically at the hand he held against her waist. "And I wanted—"he frowned—"felt I ought to speak to one of you."

"About Rissa?"

"Among other things."

His words echoed Dalton's and Penelope glanced instinctively back at her husband.

Gregory chuckled. "He needn't scowl so. I'm not entirely certain what species you two are, but I do realize that it mates for life."

"Good," she muttered, stepping deliberating on his foot. She was wearing delicate boots, rather than slippers, and had the satisfaction of seeing him wince. It was petty, but she had a point to make. "And what about your species?"

"We aspire to relative monogamy." He flashed a handsome smile and spun her on his arm.

"Where does that leave Rissa?"

"Standing alone, for the moment, while I try to obtain your permission to ask her to dance."

Penelope stepped on his foot again, this time entirely by accident. "Odd, you didn't seem to need it to kiss her."

"That was…we didn't think…I was just…"

"I know. Something sings in your blood and you have to prove you're alive." Penelope frowned. "I understand."

"You would," he muttered, glancing at Dalton.

"It doesn't mean I approve."

"I'm sorry to hear that." Gregory sounded entirely sincere. "I wish you would."

"What for? She's free to make her own mistakes."

"Is that what I am? A mistake?" He tightened his grip on her just slightly.

Penelope frowned. "You're dangerous."

"Whatever our history may be, lady knight, I do not mean Rissa any harm."

"That doesn't mean she won't get hurt."

Gregory smiled crookedly. "It doesn't mean I won't get hurt either."

Penelope blinked. "You care that much?"

He nodded sharply and squeezed her fingers hard. "Damn," he muttered. "This isn't easy to…Yes, I care for her. Why shouldn't I? She's beautiful, bright, passionate—she knows what she wants and she's determined to have it. And her eyes are always laughing just a little."

Penelope smiled grudgingly. "Even now—while she's glaring at both of us." The music wound to a close and they both stepped off the dance floor.

Gregory nodded wistfully. "I think—she cares what you and Dalton think—she'll understand when I explain our conversation to her."

"And you think she'll listen to you?"

Gregory smiled and brought her fingers to his lips once more. "Yes, I believe she will."

"Good luck then," Penelope muttered. "I'm not sure you deserve it, but you'll definitely need it."

PDPD

"You're going to develop serious jaw pain if you keep gritting your teeth that way," Neal informed Penelope as they stepped together onto the dance floor.

"That will be the least of my problems," Penelope muttered, following Rissa and Gregory with her eyes.

"It could be worse," he smiled, "he might still be dancing with you."

Penelope scowled.

"You might concentrate on not stepping on my toes," he added, wincing, "if you're in need of distraction."

"Sorry," she murmured, forcing herself to focus on her steps.

"Humbling, isn't it?" Neal smiled smugly. "Our complete inability to control younger generations and protect them from the consequences of their errors."

"You sir," she informed him, "had it easy. There was only one of me."

"And of me, last I counted."

"And I only ever snuck off to kiss one boy."

"But you were awfully good at sneaking off with him."

"Rissa's gone through seven—that I know of—" Penelope paused to calculate—"in the past three months."

"In that case, Gregory ought to be commended for lasting three weeks."

"Dalton didn't have a history of attempts on your life."

"True." Neal was silent for stretch. "The hardest part comes when you realize you have nothing left to tell them."

Penelope swallowed, afraid that he'd join her if she started crying. "Really? That one was new."

Neal made as though to cuff her but slowed his fingers to cup her cheek. "Because there's only so much you can say to an unfailing cynic." He dropped his fingers and they both spun to keep up as the music's tempo increased. "They have to decide about second—or in your case third or fourth or fifth—chances for themselves."

PDPD

Vina scowled at Greg as he approached, mostly in a vain effort to hide the silly smile that swept over her features.

"My apologies, lady squire." He bowed and kissed her fingers, holding them to his lips for a long moment before he took her in his arms. "I thought it best to tackle certain matters immediately."

"You don't need Penelope's permission to dance with me—or Dalton's."

"She told me as much," Gregory muttered.

Rissa narrowed her eyes and was rather pleased by the faint blush that appeared behind Gregory's ears.

"Forgive me," he murmured, leaning so close his breath tickled her cheek. "I've never courted someone like—I'm trying to do this properly."

Rissa raised an eyebrow to remind him that perfect propriety might not be the fastest path to her heart.

"Sorry," he added. "I just wanted to prevent any tragic misunderstanding with your knight masters and I'm still not sure where we—you and I—stand."

"Me neither." Rissa stepped a bit closer to him. "I guess we'd best keep moving then." She smiled and changed the subject. "Vina says you can tell us apart."

"I can recognize you," he said after moment's thought. "And I can tell from her eyes that she isn't you. I'm not sure how I'd fare if you both dressed identically and stood glaring at me."

"So you aren't just—I mean—"

He lifted a hand from her shoulder to stop her lips. "I've no wish to dance with your sister, Rissa." He skimmed his thumb over her mouth and then traced her chin. "I'm not sure why I feel this way"—he kissed her until her knees loosened to make his meaning clear—"about you and I've even less of an idea why you seem to feel the same way about me." He paused, as though giving her an opportunity to deny this. "It makes absolutely no sense for either of us."

"Almost nothing in my life does," Rissa informed him.

"Really?" he murmured, leading her gently off the dance floor and backing her against the wall beside a pillar. "Let me see"—he cupped her cheek in one hand and tilted his head to study her face—"if we can't clarify a few things." He paused to smell her hair and then trailed kisses down her face—eyebrow, temple, cheekbone—until he reached her lips.

PDPD

" I didn't expect to see you here." Dalton smiled down at his dance partner.

She grinned cheekily up at him. "I'm not sure Mama does either."

Dalton made a half-hearted effort at frowning as he spun her; if she weren't a freckled six-year-old, her might have succeeded. "And is your Da about to chase me down with an ax?"

Kefira shook her head so that her braids flopped across her shoulders. "You wouldn't know cause you aren't one yet, but Da's are much more persuadable—specially for girls."

"Is that so?" Dalton muttered, thinking of his own iron-willed father. "And what about Wyldon?"

"He's not a real Da," Kefira protested.

"He's got daughters," Dalton reminded her.

"Mama says that's because he had trouble taking a hint from the Goddess." Kefira shrugged. "But I think it was just so he'd get lots of practice telling stories and braiding hair."

"Wyldon braids hair?"

Kefira nodded and then, spotting Neal's daughter, Nessa, trotted off, leaving Dalton, who viewed Penelope's braid as one of life's great and beautiful mysteries, staring thoughtfully at Wyldon as he invited Mindelan to dance.

PDPD

Kel spotted Dalton standing unpartnered and beckoned him over so she could deposit Wilda in his arms before joining her ancient training master.

"I might have dropped her in surprise at his age," Wyldon observed.

"You've never been surprised at any age," Kel accused.

He shook his head. "And what would you call yourself then?"

"Oh," she muttered. "I guess I must have been a genuine shock."

He smiled. "And Selena was an education onto herself."

Kel automatically glanced around the room, looking for the young lady knight. "Do you know where—" Then it occurred to her just where Selena might be.

Wyldon raised an eyebrow. "I've decided to avoid making inquiries regarding that particular branch of knowledge."

Kel smiled. "And you display your true wisdom in doing so, sir."

PDPD

"Good evening, sir," Gregory murmured, lifting two glasses of wine from a nearby table.

"Evening." Dalton nodded stiffly but kept swaying gently, trying to soothe Wilda to sleep. "I _trust_ you're enjoying yourself." He tried not to guess how strong the wine was—how quickly it might go to Rissa's head—as he scanned the crowded ballroom for his squire and realized that she must be waiting for Gregory outside in the gardens.

"Quite," Gregory muttered. "You aren't her father."

Dalton deliberately misinterpreted. "Oh, no, Wilda is Mindelan's."

"And quite a little charmer." Gregory's face softened as a he watched a bit of baby drool fall onto Dalton's shirt.

Wilda twitched her fingers, as though in acknowledgement, and Dalton found himself smiling at both of them in reflex. Then he and Gregory watched each other for a long silent moment.

"I give you my word that I'm not trying to seduce her—"

Dalton snorted and Wilda giggled in delight.

"Erm, not for the purpose of dissuading her from her admirable goal."

Dalton raised an eyebrow but refrained from mentioning his attempts to derail Penelope's "admirable goal".

Gregory had the grace to glance away. "I—Rissa—she's steadfast but she has a spark to her—I think you know what it's like to be drawn to that kind of fire. I wouldn't want to extinguish it."

Dalton nodded grudgingly. "You wouldn't have to say a word, you know. Pregnancy would be an effective obstacle." And it was a possibility the previous night had imprinted on his mind.

Gregory's eyebrows shot up. "I suppose _she'd_ know."

Dalton knew he meant Penelope and wondered if Gregory had overheard any of their conversation the previous night. No, he decided, Gregory would have made an even more pointed remark.

"She isn't your daughter," Gregory murmured finally. "But I want you to have my word. I won't do anything to hinder her."

Dalton gave Gregory a final nod, trying not to think about what Rissa and Gregory might do outside, adjusted Wilda's weight in his arms, and strolled off to look for Penelope.

PDPD

Selena could just hear the distant dance music drifting into the small smithy kitchen. She sighed sleepily and let her head fall back to settle against Jeck's massive shoulder, relishing the warmth of his chest against her back and his fingers splayed over her stomach.

"They're still at it," Jeck murmured against her ear, "if you want to go up and dance, we could—"

"You're not actually going to propose moving, are you?"

Jeck chuckled. "Not so soon after Jason's unbelievable rice pudding."

"Flatterer," Jason called from the corner where he was cleaning up. But Jeck had meant it. The pudding had been good enough for the three of them—all admittedly athletic individuals—to polish off in one sitting, and that after heaping plates of sausage and potatoes.

"Good," Selena murmured, yawning. She let her eyes drift shut as she considered Jason. She'd been rather surprised by his culinary talent until he'd explained that it was driven by his belief that the best way to ensure himself excellent food on a regular basis was to prepare it himself. She understood this drive and she liked the familiar respect Jason treated her with—as though she belonged in his kitchen simply because Jeck wanted her there…

"Are you so weary?" Jeck asked, lifting a concerned hand to sweep a stray tendril of hair from her cheek.

"Sorry," she murmured. "I'm just a little tired. I've been doing a lot of running around lately." She smiled faintly; she'd been running from his room to her own to collect fresh clothes before morning practice. "And dodging Wyldon's speculative gaze while keeping a bunch of reckless little brats in line. And avoiding insulting challenges from my neighbors and lying to Mindelan."

She knew better than to specify, but she still felt him stiffen against her.

"It's not your fault," she said quickly, tilting her head to kiss his neck. "I knew exactly what I was getting into when I…It's well worth it. I'm just tired." She let her eyes drift shut again, scarcely conscious of what she said. "It's hard not being settled, that's all. I don't know how much longer I can keep going back and forth…"

"You don't have to." Jeck lifted her abruptly but gently from his lap and set her on her feet. "Certainly not on my account." He glanced away, shamefully aware of the difference in their status for the first time since they'd slept together.

"Jeck," she whispered. "I didn't mean—" she stepped forward—"I don't want--"

"So you've said," he managed through gritted teeth. "It's alright. I understand." He pulled her cloak off the chair and passed it to her. "Just don't linger and make this harder."

Selena stared at the cloak in her hands, torn between her shocked desire to punch Jeck—and hurt him as badly as he'd hurt her—and her need to fall to the ground and cry.

PDPD

Penelope spotted Dalton passing Wilda to Dom and hurried towards him.

"I'm in dire need of rescuing," she told him, "from an inebriated earl."

"Me too," he whispered. "His giggling admirers are after me too." Only Wilda and frequent mentions of his wife had kept them at arm's length.

"Shall we watch each other's backs then?"

Dalton kissed her and traced her sword arm before settling his hand against her waist and offering her his own fighting hand. "Always, dear one." He brushed his lips over her scalp. "And forever."

PDPD

"Don't make me come over and smash your dense, love struck heads together," Jason said.

They both turned to blink at him.

He pointed at Jeck. "You stop misinterpreting her."

Selena raised her head and Jason pointed at her. "And you aren't even to think of leaving until he's invited you to live here."

Jeck gasped and turned to his friend. "You wouldn't mind?" He reached out and took one of Selena's hands in his own and she squeezed his fingers.

"Of course not. At various points in the past two years, this smithy's housed two wolfhounds, one goat, three cats"—Jason gestured at the cats, who were still in residence and yowled loudly on cue—"eight casks of wine won in unwise gambling, a statue of a horse, and six seamstresses."

Selena blinked at this last bit.

"Three were my sisters," Jason clarified. "And I hosted the others one at a time." Then he continued his list. "Two laundresses—Bill did court both of them at one time and he's probably out finding a few more now—and a badger that got in by mistake." He frowned, trying to decide if he'd missed anything. "I think we can accommodate a lady knight. She's quieter than the cats and most of time she fits compactly in your lap."

Jeck took this hint and pulled her sideways into his lap so that she faced him. She took his hand and lifted it deliberately to her shoulder.

"So," he murmured, "now that you've heard how chaotic this place is, how would you like to live here?" He lifted his fingers to her cheek. "Do you need time to think?"

"No," Selena said. "Not a second," she clarified quickly. "I'd love it." She kissed him, heedless of the tears that she dropped his face. Then she sprang up to keep herself from dissolving completely. "I suppose that means I should help with the dishes."

Jason laughed. "Tonight you're still a guest. You can start helping tomorrow after you move your things in." He reached over and wrapped a somewhat soapy arm briefly round her shoulders.

Jeck stood and took her hand with a casual formality. "Let's head up to our room, then."

She nodded and then pulled his arm over her shoulders so they could stumble up the steps together. He pulled his—their, she realized—door shut and turned to take her shoulders so they could study each other's faces.

"Sorry," they both mumbled, their synchronism triggering twin laughs. Selena's threatened to well into relieved hysteria, so she quickly buried it against Jeck's chest.

"I shouldn't have—"

"Hush." He pushed her just far enough away so that he could kiss her, effectively stifling both laughter and apologies. "Next time, hopefully I'll know what you meant."

She nodded, trying to apologize again. "I'm so glad to—"Jeck smoothed her hair and she realized he'd forgiven her as quickly as she'd forgiven him. "Glad to be home," she finished in a whisper, raising her arms so Jeck could pull off her tunic.

"Good." He kissed her forehead and pulled her close, chuckling as her fingers sought his buttons. "Me too."

PDPD

"Here we are then," Greg murmured as they reached her door and Rissa realized she wasn't quite sure what he meant and felt her heart take off like hare.

Greg, who was toying with her hand, seemed to notice for he raised one eyebrow and gazed at her with questioning grey eyes. Then, apparently coming to a decision, he bent to kiss her temple.

"You are dangerously young and beautiful," he murmured, tracing his nose over her forehead so that she shivered pleasantly. "Allow me to kiss you goodnight."

She tilted her face up to him and he covered her lips with his. It started gently but they both broke apart breathless.

"Good night, Rissa," he whispered. "Sleep well."

They nodded at each other and she stepped into her room before her head had stopped spinning. Perhaps this was why she didn't notice Vina's absence until she'd finished undressing.

Rissa sat quickly on Vina's empty bed, closing her eyes and wishing that she were actually capable of sensing her twin's whereabouts. When they were younger, she'd cried at Vina's injuries, but lately they'd spoken little to one another and she hated to think that it was all her fault.

"Hey." Vina's whisper pulled her eyes open.

"Sorry," Rissa murmured, scooting back to her own bed as Vina shut the door. "Where were you? I was worried."

"I had to make sure you'd come back alone before I followed you, didn't I?"

"Vina," Rissa hissed. "I wouldn't ever—"

Vina shook her head. "I don't suppose either of us knows anymore what the other might do. Or what we might do." She shrugged. "Not that it matters really. You needn't wrap your life around mine." She pulled on her nightgown and popped into bed. "Night," she added, turning onto her side.

"Vina?" Rissa whispered. Her twin didn't answer, though Rissa knew she was awake.

_It's not really a cliffhanger—no one's in mortal peril, though I'm still not sure about Gregory. And the next chapter will pick up just a few hours later: _

"Dalton," Penelope muttered, butting her head lighting against his shoulder, "door."

"Mmmph," he replied, attempting to bury his face under her neck.

"It's definitely your turn," she informed him. "You don't want me to wind up half-dressed before one of your fellow—"

_And it will be available in about a week. In the meantime, thanks for reading and reviewing. _


	7. Moving Along

_Hello again to all my wonderful readers and special thanks to those of you who reviewed! Sorry about the delay in posting—Real Life has been throwing rocks at my head—I've tried to make it up to you with an extra long chapter and a big body count and more of Jason…This episode begins the morning after the previous one (so nobody gets to sleep in after the ball) and contains characters and real estate borrowed from Tamora Pierce. _

"Dalton," Penelope muttered, butting her head lightly against his shoulder, "door."

"Mmmph," he replied, attempting to bury his face under her neck.

"It's definitely your turn," she informed him. "You don't want me to wind up half-dressed before one of your fellow—"

He sighed, rolled out of bed, and considerately tucked the blankets back around her. Then he stumbled to the door and found himself half-dressed before Selena.

"Inevitable," he muttered sleepily.

"Excuse me," Selena murmured, apparently unfazed by his bare chest (which admittedly was probably not as impressive as Jeck's). "I have a small favor to ask."

Dalton nodded and pulled the door open for her. Penelope hopped out of bed, wincing as her feet hit the chilly floor, and watched Selena expectantly as she pulled on a pair of trousers. Selena hesitated under her gaze.

"I need some help moving a few things," she said finally. "Discretely, if possible."

"To Jeck's?" Dalton asked.

Selena nodded, letting her small smile break into a wide grin before she glanced anxiously at her feet. "I know it's soon, but I'd rather be honest about it and not wait for our hallmates to guess where I go at night." She grimaced. "And then it's such—

"a pain trying to live in two rooms at once," Dalton finished sympathetically.

Selena nodded again, blinking in surprise.

"My room was near Marcel's and got very little use," Dalton said by way of explanation, casting his eyes meaningfully at Penelope. "And it's exhausting running back and forth to change clothes—"

"especially when you aren't sure what's where," Selena continued, "and whether or not it's clean."

Dalton winced knowingly. "And matters are further complicated," he added pointedly, "when your sweetheart appropriates your clothing for her own use."

"I did no such—"Penelope began.

Dalton tugged at the collar of the shirt—his actually—she'd slept in and raised an eyebrow. "You did. You do. And you're well worth it," he assured her, dropping a kiss on her temple.

"I'm more likely to loose weapons to tinkering and repairs," Selena remarked.

Penelope crinkled her nose and then sobered suddenly. "What are you planning to tell Wyldon?"

"Erm," Selena said. "Nothing."

"Good," Penelope said slowly, "luck."

"Unless he asks," Selena put in quickly.

Dalton flinched.

"Which he won't," Selena assured them. "I can't lie to him outright, but he's happy with whatever illusion he's maintaining regarding my bed."

"Thank the Goddess for deliberate male obliviousness," Penelope muttered.

"I doubt she has much to do with it," Dalton pointed out.

PDPD

Rissa and Vina woke facing each other and blinked quietly for a long stretch. The space between their beds gaped ominously.

"Sorry," Vina murmured finally. "I didn't mean what I sai—"

"Vina," Rissa interrupted. "You might have been right last night. But you'll always matter more."

Vina smiled. "So will you."

"Does this mean you've found a boy?"

Vina smiled wistfully and shook her head. But Penelope knocked on their door before Rissa could ask again.

"Hop up, girls. No practice this morning. We've things for you to carry."

PDPD

The five of them managed to get everything to the smithy—where Jeck waited with open arms and a delighted grin—in one trip.

"I see you've found big brawny knights for the job," Jason remarked as he held the door for Penelope, who managed to scowl at him even though only her eyes were visible over the box she carried.

"More like small and sturdy," Jeck observed, sizing up the twins as though he planned to craft weapons for them.

"But they'll eat impressively," Selena assured Jason.

As though to prove her point, Penelope passed her box to Jeck, clapped him on the shoulder in congratulations, and then tiptoed over to investigate the contents of Jason's porridge pot.

"Do I smell ginger?" she asked.

"And cinnamon." He smiled approvingly and shooed her away from his culinary territory. She twitched her nose once more and trotted up the stairs to Jeck's room.

"Is this everything?" Rissa asked, setting a pile of armor on the foot of the bed.

Selena scanned the room and nodded, smiling as Jeck wrapped an arm about her waist.

"So you didn't want that chair by the window?" Dalton asked.

"No. Why?"

"No reason," Penelope said quickly, her eyes gleaming with the joy of acquisition.

"Breakfast!" Jason called, summoning knights, smiths, and squires to heaping bowls of spiced porridge with raisins and cream. These were eaten in appreciative silence—which Jason wisely regarded as the highest possible praise—broken eventually by knowledgeable discussion of daggers and dirks and their various merits.

"The problem with throwing them," Rissa remarked.

"Is that you don't want them returned if you miss," Vina finished.

Jason and Jeck blinked in surprise and Penelope and Dalton blinked at one another. It was the first time Vina and Rissa had spoken together in weeks.

PDPD

Jason's porridge proved to be quite substantial. Penelope and Dalton were both still quite full when the pages departed for lunch and they lingered on the practice courts with their squires while Selena gathered her courage for a brief word with Mindelan.

PDPD

"Could I speak to you a moment?" Selena said, trying not to be startled by the calm authority of her own voice.

Mindelan smiled. "Can you do so while I walk to the infirmary to collect my children?"

Selena nodded, though it meant walking in the opposite direction from the smithy.

"Good," Mindelan said, and she slowed her pace, patiently offering Selena time to arrange her words.

Selena found she didn't need it. Just as she hadn't needed time to think before deciding to move. "I thought I should tell you so can find me quickly in an emergency. I'll be living in one of the rooms over the smithy from now on."

"Very well." It was a standard reply, but there was a genuine warmth in Mindelan's eyes. Selena thought she actually meant it and knew she wouldn't tell Wyldon.

PDPD

Dalton paired off with Rissa, studying her smile as their blades danced off one another. He couldn't make anything of it. Then her smile widened and she stepped back, lowering her blade. Dalton turned to find Gregory offering both of them a short bow and raising his own practice sword.

"Might I engage Rissa for a stretch?"

Dalton nodded, feeling that he ought to grant permission—and maintain some illusion of power—before Rissa deliberately disobeyed him.

Penelope promptly sent Vina's blade flying across the court. "Perfect," she muttered. "Dalton, why don't you work with Vina? See if you can't get her guarding her upper left. And I'll watch all four you."

Dalton shrugged at Vina, who blushed and picked up her blade—and then attacked quite suddenly and furiously. He'd meant to watch Rissa and Gregory—if he and Penelope were any indication, then their duel would speak volumes about their feelings for one another—but found that he had to devote all his energy to defending himself from all Vina's no-longer-suppressed aggression. It was better than tears, at least, and he could trust Penelope to keep an eye on…

"Hold there, all of you! A word, sir Gregory."

Dalton turned to find on older nobleman—whose name he couldn't quite remember—marching towards them and spewing orders.

"We've just gotten word of a handful of bandits harassing travelers in the Royal Forest. Why don't you take this lot"—he gestured irritably around the practice court as though to transform Penelope, Rissa, and Vina into men—"out to tackle the matter? They were last spotted near the north ridge trail—it shouldn't take you more than an afternoon to handle."

Gregory nodded stiffly, but the man vanished before he could respond. "Right, then," he ordered. "We'd best go saddle our mounts."

"Who put you in charge?" Penelope muttered.

Gregory smirked. "Lord Wallace, apparently."

PDPD

"How many are a handful exactly?" Gregory mused as they reached the north ridge trail an hour later.

"It's generally an approximate term," Rissa answered.

"But theoretically, even you ought to be able to count all of them without resorting to your toes," Vina added sharply. And then she tugged at Rissa's arm, yanking her out of the way just in time to avoid a knife thrown through the trees.

"Alternatively," Dalton muttered as the knife's owner and his friends emerged, most of them armed with axes, "it's a euphemism for an unfriendly group somewhat smaller than a horde."

"Fourteen." Penelope drew her sword. "That's just under three apiece." Then she got a head start on her own quota by slicing across the neck of the man who attempted to pull her from her horse.

Assuming there aren't any hiding in wait, Gregory thought, but didn't have time to correct Penelope as he plunged into the fight. He swept sideways, blocking two men who were lunging for Rissa.

A third man slipped past Gregory. Vina grunted delicately as she kicked his jaw and drove her sword hilt into his temple.

Outnumbered and unmounted, the bandits took their only possible advantage and split up, forcing the knights and squires to separate and track them down over rough terrain. Gregory just managed to stay with Rissa in the chaos.

PDPD

Vina nearly panicked when she realized she was alone with two bandits. Then her horse caught a strange scent from the bandits' roasting pit and did the panicking for her with much screaming and flailing of hooves. One bandit was knocked into the pit and his screams drove Vina's horse to new frenzies; Vina barely managed to keep a grip on her sword—and keep from slicing herself in two—as she fell.

Since she didn't have time to recover, she rolled onto her feet and lunged after the remaining bandit. She sliced at his thigh, dropping him to his knees, and edged closer, pressing her sword towards his neck and cornering him against a tree.

"Stand up," she ordered, meaning to bring him as a prisoner while she searched for the others.

He shook his head, snarled, and then sprang forwards, deliberately spearing his own neck

"Why?" she whispered, dropping her blade in disgust.

"He was wanted for rape," another bandit hissed, appearing from behind a thick pine. "Among other crimes. And he was desperate to avoid punishment. Like me. Only I've the good sense to know what I can get away with." He grinned unpleasantly and lifted an enormous broadsword. Handling it easily in one hand, he swung it between Vina and her own abandoned sword. "Back up," he ordered, "and take off your trousers."

She swallowed hard—Mindelan and the Lioness and Penelope had all warned her to avoid this sort of situation—and backed out of his sword's range. Then she grabbed her belt knife and threw it. She aimed for his gut, but her hand shook with nerves and she hit his thigh instead, angering him without injuring him.

He snarled and lunged at her, slicing open her sword arm from shoulder to elbow.

_It'll be weeks before I can use it a duel, _she thought, numbly wondering when it would start to hurt.

Then he swung again and there was no more time for thinking. She had to drop and roll away.

PDPD

Dalton stopped both his bandits—apparently brothers—by shooting one of them in the shoulder. Then it took only a few growled threats to get them shuffling along in front of his horse. Finding his companions was just as easy once he heard Rissa's voice.

"You can't just rush in and protect me that way."

"I couldn't help it," Gregory answered.

Dalton rolled his eyes and nudged his prisoners along.

"But I wasn't—" Rissa started.

"I know," Gregory shot back. "And I suppose you could sit on your hands and watch me fight outnumbered just because it looked like I might win."

Dalton found them standing together, ignoring their six prisoners. Gregory's hand shook slightly with post-battle nerves as he laid it against Rissa's cheek.

Gregory spotted Dalton and nodded at him, before deliberately pulling Rissa into a provocatively close embrace.

Rissa stiffened suddenly in Gregory's arms. "Vina," she hissed.

Her twin's mare crashed into the clearing a moment later, her eyes wild and her saddle empty.

Rissa launched into a quiet stream of curses, speaking in the deceptively calm tone of the truly terrified, and lunged for her own horse.

Dalton, who was still mounted, gestured for her to stay put and took off himself.

"He'll find her," Gregory said, squeezing Rissa's arm in reassurance.

PDPD

Vina was fighting tooth and nail when Dalton found her. But her massive opponent had ripped off her tunic and pinned her to the ground with his knee.

Dalton didn't hesitate. He flung himself off his horse and swung at the man's shoulders. And swung and kicked again and again, barely aware of Vina scrambling away. He was vaguely conscious of the bandit's death, but didn't register it as sufficient reason to stop attacking him.

"Sir. That's probably sufficient." Vina's remarkably steady voice yanked him back to reality, if not reason, and he realized guiltily that he ought to find out how badly she was injured. "Are you alright?" she asked absurdly.

He nodded. "And you?"

She set her face stoically and shrugged, but hissed as the movement jarred her arm. Her sleeve was soaked in blood and Dalton tried not to think about how much she'd lost.

"Sit," he ordered, pointing to a convenient log. "And try to staunch the bleeding," he added, offering her a clean handkerchief from his belt pouch.

Vina snorted at this pathetic effort and glanced away awkwardly before stripping off the remains of her tattered shirt. Dalton realized what she meant to do, saw that it would be impossible with one hand, and took over wrapping her arm. Vina sat absolutely still and gazed straight ahead, describing what had happened in a numb, detached voice.

He wet his handkerchief lifted it gingerly to the blood on her face.

"I don't think any of it's mine," she muttered. Then she frowned and grabbed the cloth from him, scrubbing furiously. "All the more reason to get it off," she explained, sounding almost like Vina again.

Dalton forced himself to smile and then removed his own shirt and helped Vina put it on over her injured arm.

"Thanks," she said, standing. "Rissa would probably finish me off if I showed up topless in front of Gregory."

They managed to laugh briefly, but then a gust of wind from the bandits' roasting pit made both of them gag.

"What's in there anyway?" Vina gestured vaguely at the roasting pit with her good hand.

"I think it was a dog," Dalton said, swallowing back bile after a quick glance. "No need to linger." He held his horse while Vina— trembling from blood loss—mounted and then swung up behind her to ride away, leaving the carnage behind without a backward glance.

Dalton stayed just long enough to hand Vina into Rissa's arms and hear Gregory offer her a flask of brandy before he hurried to find Penelope.

PDPD

Penelope's bandits led her to the cave that must have been the bandit's camp. One grabbed a club and swung it her, forcing her to swing back with her sword and hack into his neck and shoulder. The other promptly raised his hands in surrender and helpfully gestured with one foot to a heap of supplies that included a coil of rope.

She dismounted and grabbed the rope, only to find that the covered basket beneath it was whining pitifully.

"Hands behind your back," she ordered and immediately tied the prisoner up. "What's that?"

"Not mine," he muttered. "Am I going to be hanged?" he asked, glancing back at Penelope. She realized suddenly that he was her own age.

"That depends what you've done," she said, unsuccessfully attempting patience as she secured him to a sturdy sapling.

"I've stolen sausage." He slumped against the tree. "And beans. And blankets."

"Probably not then," Penelope muttered. She walked back towards the basket, which was now positively keening.

Penelope dropped to her knees beside it and thoughtlessly pried off the lid, knocking it sideways in the process. The whining ceased immediately and something warm and fluffy fell into her lap, burrowing into her clothes with small endearing grunts.

Penelope instinctively ran her fingers through the soft cinnamon fur and then rolled the creature over, discovering that it was a male puppy. It was some sort of herding dog, with intelligent amber eyes and a fluffy white chest.

"Hello there," she murmured. "And where's your mother?"

"Trust me," Dalton muttered, dismounting behind her. "You don't want to know." He glanced once at the prisoner to be certain he was secured and then ran his hands over Penelope's shoulders to be sure she was uninjured.

"I'm fine," she assured him. "Not even scratch—ouch!" she squeaked as the puppy's teeth closed over her thumb.

Dalton raised an eyebrow and pulled an ancient piece of jerky from his belt pouch for the puppy, who scampered clumsily onto his lap.

"Rissa and Gregory have the rest cornered," he murmured, his fingers settling against Penelope's in the warmth of the puppy's fur. "Vina's with them," he added, his tone hinting at what had happened. "So—" he glanced from the puppy to the prisoner—"which ruffian do you want to escort back?"

PDPD

They arrived back at the palace around sunset after turning their captives over to guards at the prison. Then Gregory took Rissa—with Penelope's distracted consent—to an eating house for supper and Dalton marched Vina to the infirmary to have arm tended to. Penelope followed him and the puppy followed her as though his nose were tied to her boots.

Neal surveyed all four of them and wisely did not ask Vina how she'd gotten hurt or complain about the puppy's presence. He let Dalton give a concise and somewhat censored version of events as he cleaned the cut and began sealing it up.

"You appear to have a rival," Neal informed Dalton, who had turned away from Vina's injury to watch Penelope tussle gently with the puppy.

"It's just puppy love," he murmured, watching the puppy chew at the tip of her braid.

"I've heard that before." Neal reached for a bandage. "Her last case ended in marriage."

PDPD

Dalton, however, was also immediately attached to the puppy, who ate an enormous bowl of scraps, slept curled at the foot of their bed, peed on their floor, and eagerly followed them to the practice courts the next morning. And neither of them was pleased to run out of reasons—like feeding him again or stopping to check on Vina in the infirmary—to put off taking him to the Wildmage. Not that she took very long to examine him.

"He'll need frequent feeding," Daine said, smiling as she lifted the puppy towards them, "but otherwise he's fine. Take your puppy home."

Penelope glanced at Dalton, who clenched his fists to keep himself from reaching towards the puppy, and then back at Daine. "He isn't our—"she swallowed—"we were bringing him to you."

The puppy sneezed indignantly and Daine laughed. "That may be. But you're his people."

"By which she means you haven't any choice in the matter," Numair informed them. "Shepherds are unreasonably loyal. You'd best hope he doesn't grow large enough to kick you both out of bed."

Daine passed the puppy into Penelope's outstretched arms and turned to face her husband. "Dearest, canines are not and never will be on the bed-banned species list."

Numair released a long-suffering sigh, but then he smiled. "Of course not, they're entirely too clever."

Penelope had her doubts about this as their puppy was currently demonstrating his intelligence by attempting to eat her hair, but she found she couldn't stop smiling foolishly at him.

"What does he call himself?" Dalton asked.

Daine smiled. "He's a little young for that kind of abstraction. You'll have to come up with a name yourselves.

PDPD

"What do you think?" Penelope asked that evening, glancing up from the warm mass sleeping on her lap to smile at Dalton and help herself to a roll from the tray he had brought.

Dalton tilted his head thoughtfully and tidied a bit of hair away from her face. "I don't I've ever seen you so peaceful and content."

"That's because you don't see me watching you sleep," she informed him gesturing lazily with her bread. "I meant what do think his name should be?"

The puppy started awake and snatched the roll in his teeth.

"Bandit," Dalton said, grinning and tossing each of them another roll.

_So, hope you've enjoyed your fluff, fighting, and fuzziness. I'm afraid it's been a very long week for our characters…Anyway I hope to have the next episode up in a few weeks, but I promise it will be exciting too. See: _

"Vina?" Dalton called.

A few ponies snorted quietly, but Vina didn't answer.

"Vina, we don't have to talk—we should but we don't have to—but I need to know we can look each other in the eye." He paused and stepped away from the ladder to the loft. "Unless you're serious about quitting."


	8. Complications

PDPD

_It's so good to be back! My apologies for the delay in updating and many thanks so all my wonderful reviewers—you've encouraged me to keep writing—one of the best things in my life--through a rough patch of Reality. (Note to fellow history buffs: taking Irish (starvation and oppression) and Russian (starvation and oppression on a larger scale) history courses simultaneously is rather depressing,) This episode takes place 6 weeks after the last and the real estate belongs to Tamora Pierce!_

"Stop ogling the Own," Penelope ordered Rissa. "Gregory's only been gone one week and he probably hasn't spent it eying other girls."

"Only because he hasn't had the opportunity," Rissa said, reluctantly pulling her gaze away from the handsome young men filing past their practice court. "And for all I know someone better might be walking by. Just because you kissed the right one on the first try doesn't mean I will. Some of us need to go through several men to discover our preferences."

"And others don't," Vina remarked, sounding slightly choked.

Penelope let out an exasperated growl. Bandit echoed it from his post at her feet.

"Quite right," she muttered. "I really shouldn't be defending him."

Bandit whined again and rolled over, exposing his belly for scratching in order to set her priorities straight. Penelope sat down beside her dog and nodded at her squires.

"You can look on your own time. Now I want to watch you run through one more duel before supper."

They were still almost perfectly matched and good at anticipating each other's movements, so the fight lasted a long time. But Vina's arm eventually tired and slipped, giving Rissa a window to disarm her and knock her to the ground.

"Sorry," Rissa said, helping her up. "Your injury—I shouldn't have—"

Vina shrugged. "I'm just a little sore." She forced a smile. "Really, it's fine. I'll see you at supper."

Rissa nodded and carried away both of their weapons. Vina sat down on the other side of Bandit and buried her fingers in his fur.

"Penelope?"

"Yes," she murmured, glancing up briefly to smile at Dalton as he joined them.

"Did you ever think about quitting?"

Penelope hesitated and Dalton pressed his knee reassuringly against her shoulder.

"Everyone does sometimes, Vina. It doesn't mean you will." She reached out to grasp Vina's arm.

Vina flinched. "I was just wondering."

Dalton squatted beside both of them and tugged at Vina's braid. "Your arm's going to get better."

"It's been six weeks," Vina mumbled.

"You were sliced open almost to the bone," Dalton said. "It might take longer."

"I know," Vina whispered, but she sounded uncertain.

"Just ask yourself if you can imagine anything you'd rather do more," Penelope told her.

"Not really," Vina said, lifting her chin. "Thanks."

PDPD

Mindelan caught Dalton's eye as he was leaving after afternoon practice the next day. "Would you mind doing me a quick favor?"

"Not at all." Dalton reached out to take Wilda before she could wriggle free from her mother's grip.

"Thanks," she murmured, sounding slightly frazzled. And Dalton realized he'd accidentally volunteered for something more, but didn't really mind.

"I'm planning on running a joint training exercise with some of the Riders, but I want to talk to Tobe about it," she explained, readjusting her grip on Peregrine and her armful of gear so that she could take Wilda back. "Could you just ask him to swing by my rooms tomorrow morning? And I'll take these two up for their nap."

Dalton dodged Wilda's attempt to rip off his ear and passed her back to her mother, feeling that he'd gotten off easy.

He reached the Riders' barn quickly, but hesitated when he recognized the murmurs of a private conversation, punctuated by sighs and kisses.

"…don't want to do that. It isn't always easy for women, even in the Riders."

"I know." Dalton thought there was something vaguely familiar about this voice. "And we wouldn't see each other any oftener."

"Goddess, I'll miss you."

"Promise me you'll come back safe."

"Or what?" Someone chuckled darkly and they kissed again. "Try to be here when I get back then."

Feeling that it wasn't right to eavesdrop any longer, Dalton stepped around the hay and realized just how familiar the voice was. Vina's face was angled away from him as she lifted her head to kiss the Rider who embraced her, but Dalton recognized her profile instantly and hissed in involuntary surprise.

Both women startled apart. Vina cursed softly and shot up the ladder into the loft.

"Excuse me, sir." The Rider, tall and beautiful with mahogany hair and grey eyes, stepped past him with a businesslike nod. She led her saddled pony from his stall and stepped outside to mount and ride away, strong and unashamed.

Which left him alone with his embarrassed squire—his favorite squire too (if he were absolutely honest with himself) because her quiet, private determination matched his own—who'd been injured and keeping a serious secret.

"Vina?" Dalton called.

A few ponies snorted quietly, but Vina didn't answer.

"Vina, we don't have to talk—we should but we don't have to—but I need to know we can look each other in the eye." He paused and stepped away from the ladder to the loft. "Unless you're serious about quitting."

PDPD

"There goes the smiths' slut."

Selena didn't bother turning to see which of Marcel's cronies had shouted, but she didn't slam the door shut behind her either—mostly because the smithy was particularly smoky that afternoon.

"Want to hit something?" Jason offered her his hammer.

"I'd rather hit someone specific."

"Me too," Jeck muttered.

Selena swallowed and stepped towards him. "Please don't—"

"I know better than to challenge my betters," he snapped.

Selena flinched. Jason stretched, yawning theatrically, and made a tactful exit.

"They aren't," Selena murmured. "This won't last forever. It will stop once—"

"Once what?" Jeck said grimly. He set his hand on her shoulder, careful to touch only her practice clothes with his blackened fingers. Then he brushed his lips against her temple and sighed into her hair. "There's only on thing that would truly end it."

Selena swallowed to keep her heart from crawling into her mouth and turned her face towards Jeck.

"And I'm not nobleborn." He glanced down at their boots. "So you know I can't ask you to marry me. I'm sorry."

"I know," she choked, although she hadn't known until that moment. Just as she hadn't realized how much she wanted him to ask. It was terrifying to contemplate, but Jeck shrugged to let her know she didn't need to say anything more. And that small gesture of understanding was suddenly too much for both of them. Selena nodded and spun away.

She ran blindly and was rather astonished to find herself outside Penelope and Dalton's door when she stopped.

PDPD

Dalton was just trying to decide whether or not he should climb up and find her when Vina's tearstained face appeared overhead.

"Are you that disappointed sir?" she cast her eyes around the stables and would not look at him.

"What?"

"Are so disgusted you want me to quit?" Vina snapped.

"No, I'm not. I jus—"

"Then I won't quit." Vina set her teeth and glanced nervously down at him.

"Good. Climb down and come for a walk around the pastures with me."

Vina hesitated a moment but then slowly descended and followed him out to the Rider pastures. They began a slow circuit around the fence. The afternoon was threatening rain and they were alone.

"I'm not at all disgusted," Dalton repeated. "I was surprised, but I probably shouldn't have been."

"Is it that obvious that I'm—" Vina bit her lip.

"No." Dalton stooped to pick up a pebble. "I only meant that I'd told myself I'd stop letting you and Rissa surprise me. That's all."

"Oh," she muttered, "sorry."

PDPD

"Come in," Penelope called, recognizing Selena by her knock. She gratefully threw down the shirt she'd been unsuccessfully attempting to mend and stood up. Bandit whined and hopped off the bed.

Selena crept in, pushed the door closed, and promptly burst into tears, bewildering both of them.

Penelope tiptoed over and wrapped her arms around her friend. Bandit came over to lick her knee and chew tenderly at her bootlaces.

"What happened?" Penelope asked.

Selena blinked. "I'm not sure." She lowered her head to Penelope's shoulder and muttered something incomprehensible. It contained the words "Jeck" and "marry."

"Already?" Penelope murmured. "Don't worry about it. I was completely paralyzed the first time Dalton proposed."

"But he never told you he couldn't ask, did he?" She rubbed her eyes.

"Not that I recall?" Penelope murmured, suddenly understanding and feeling guilty for her thoughtlessness.

But Selena smiled involuntarily. "First? You turned Dalton down?"

"No I just sat thinking confused thoughts and praying it wouldn't be the last time I ever watched him get dressed." Penelope shrugged. "And then it took a little fortuitous hypothermia to give me the courage to hint that he should bring it up again." She grinned. "The brandy probably helped too. But courage isn't your problem, is it?"

"No. Just Jeck's thick skull." She bit her lip. "I didn't mean that," she muttered. Then she explained her difficulties with noble-commoner cohabitation. They sat on the floor as she spoke and she found her fingers stroking the space between Bandit's eyes.

"Well," said Penelope. "Do you want him to ask you? Do you want to marry him?"

"Yes—no—I don't know." Selena took a breath. "Not quite yet."

"Then don't worry about it until you're ready. And in the meantime enjoy what you have together. You're both happy, right?"

Selena thought of the way Jeck had understood she couldn't speak and nodded.

"Good." Penelope thumped Bandit's side. "Then go back to him. And eventually—"she paused to catch Selena's eye—"you might have to ask him."

Selena swallowed.

"You are the knighted noble, after all." Penelope squeezed her shoulder. "I can throw you in a cold creek first if you think it will help."

PDPD

"So," Dalton said once they'd walked in silence for a long nervous stretch, "she's beautiful. What's her name?"

"Karyna." Vina smiled, and Dalton realized it had been ages since he'd last seen her so vibrant. "She's seventeen. She's been with Riders a year. She was stationed here all winter. The twins—the ones in the Riders—introduced us after one of our epic snowball fights."

"Ah, and may I ask how long—"

"Six weeks." Vina glanced involuntarily at her arm, which rather diminished her not-that-I've-been-counting smile.

"You've been distracted longer than that," Dalton muttered, thinking back to her apparent anguish as she watched Gregory and Rissa and the stray smiles that had crossed her face at other moments.

"Well, we went through an extensive awkward watching phase. It is rather confusing realizing you aren't like your—"she twisted her lips angrily—"aren't like everybody else," she finished calmly.

"Oh." Dalton frowned thoughtfully. "Is that why you didn't go to the ball?"

"Sort of." Vina crinkled her nose and then sobered. "We—I hadn't realized yet that I was... I just knew I'd rather have supper with her than sit around watching Rissa and Gregory. Not that we had a particularly pleasant evening since we were both too scared to actually say anything or even look—"

"at one another," Dalton finished sympathetically.

Vina blinked at him, her eyes shedding their wariness. "How would you know?"

"Penelope was far shorter than me. It gave her a distinct advantage in the looking away game." Dalton smiled and then set his own gaze on the pasture fence, leaving Vina free to continue.

"But then she kissed my cheek as I was leaving—like it could have been nothing—only it wasn't—and then I had to look at her—and we both kind of knew. Only the next day—"Vina stopped suddenly with a sound that was almost a whimper.

Dalton carefully reached around her shoulders to squeeze her good arm. "That was a rough day."

"Afterwards." Vina swallowed. "When you left me in the infirmary—that was when I really thought about quitting. I hadn't been killed. I hadn't been raped. And Queenscove promised that my arm was going to heal. But I felt so fragile—"Vina blushed—"like something inside had shattered—that I couldn't really appreciate the fact that I was still in one piece." She smiled crookedly. "Thanks for that, by the way."

Dalton shrugged. "You saved my life. Just returning the favor at an inopportune moment." He swallowed. "I should have been there sooner."

Vina shrugged and shot him a how-would-you-have-managed-that look.

"But you didn't quit," Dalton said gently.

"No. Queenscove let me out of the infirmary and she was waiting for me and I realized I really was alright. Or, I wasn't alright, but after I kissed her I knew I was going to be."

"I see. What was yesterday afternoon about then?"

Vina blushed and Dalton looked away, setting his eyes on the fence again. "I had thought of quitting to join the Riders. To be with her. But I—we decided that probably wouldn't be a good idea. I wouldn't see her any oftener and I want this." She sighed. "It's just hard—complicated trying to balance everything." She lowered her voice, but her words came clipped and angry. "I—we can't afford to spark any gossip. But 'being discrete'—not that we've really managed it"—she shrugged awkwardly at him—"feels like lying to—"She stopped and took a sharp breath.

"You haven't told Rissa," he realized, turning towards her.

She glanced miserably at him and shook her head slowly, her face and shoulders crumpling.

"Vina." He opened his arms and instinctively pulled her against his chest.

The warmth and acceptance of his gesture loosened the chokehold she'd kept on herself and Vina wept, sobbing out all the tears that should have come after the bandit attacked her, crying because Karyna was riding away and because her twin sister was slipping out of their shared understanding. And with relief at having finally told someone her secret and not having been rejected for it.

Dalton sighed and lifted a hand to stroke her hair, smoothing away the single tear he'd dropped onto her head.

Eventually Vina let out a final hiccup and raised her head. "Sorry." She blinked and scrubbed her face dry with a handkerchief. "Thanks."

Dalton shrugged and gestured for her to continue walking. They'd nearly completed their circuit of the pasture.

"Her group—the Tricksters and they definitely deserve the name—was called out to deal with the flooding in Yellowrock Village." Vina smiled grimly. "She won't be facing anything dangerous. But I—it's not easy watching people ride away."

Dalton shook his head slowly. "You should have said goodbye."

Vina nodded, blushing, and studied her boots.

"You can't hide forever. Especially not from the people who care about you. For one thing, she's absolutely stunning and--"

"You aren't her type," Vina said, somewhat smugly. Then she bit her lip. "I—could you not tell Penelope? I'd rather talk to her myself. Tonight."

Dalton nodded and decided he could come back to find Tobe later.

PDPD

Selena was just leaving as Vina and Dalton reached his room, and he was shocked by her swollen, tearstained face.

"Thanks," she told Penelope. And then she managed to exchange dignified nods with Dalton and Vina (who looked just as frayed and tearstained) before hurrying away.

"She'll be alright," Penelope said, her optimism sounding mostly unforced. "She and Jeck just had a conversation they weren't quite ready for." She shot Dalton an I'll-tell-you-everything-later smile and kissed his chin.

"Could I have a word?" Vina said quickly.

Penelope nodded, conveniently deciding that the gods were set against her mending her shirt. Then she glanced at Vina's tightly clenched jaw. "Let's take Bandit out then."

Dalton retrieved Penelope's mending after they'd gone, but saw that she'd sealed the end of her sleeve shut, concluded that he wasn't willing to cross the line between love and slavish devotion, dropped the shirt back to the floor, and went to find Tobe instead.

PDPD

"Glad you're back," Jason said, smiling at Selena when she returned to the smithy. "Jeck's upstairs," he added, but he grabbed hold of her to keep her from rushing up immediately. "What you two are doing," he murmured, "is very complicated. It's a good thing you're both brave."

"Uh. Thanks," she muttered, feeling decidedly terrified as Jeck descended the stairs. She swallowed and watched his Jeck's feet as Jason stepped back towards the stove.

"Selena." Jeck's whisper forced her to lift her eyes and meet his gaze.

"Just because I'm not supposed to ask"—he took one of her hands and wrapped it in both of his—"doesn't mean I don't want to."

Selena nodded and pulled him close to kiss his jaw. "I think I knew that too." She tried to whisper an apology, but he lifted his hands to cup her face and kissed her breathless.

Jason clapped in slow, ironic applause as they broke apart. "Is there going to be an encore? Or shall we have supper now?"

"I could throw something at him," Jeck offered, "but I'm afraid he might spoil the soup."

"Best to let well enough alone then," Selena muttered. She kissed him once more before grabbing three bowls for the table.

PDPD

Dalton was just setting a supper tray down on their table when Penelope and Bandit returned.

"She's gone to tell Rissa," Penelope murmured as they stepped inside. "Why is love so complicated?"

"I hope that was rhetorical." Dalton took her shoulders and tried to rub the tension from her neck.

"It wasn't a complaint." She sighed happily. "All the worthwhile things in life are." She tilted her head and grinned up at him.

"I don't know." Dalton turned her around. "I can think of a few that are wonderfully straightforward." He kissed her in demonstration.

"Oh." Penelope glanced around the room, taking in their hastily made bed, their simple supper, and their dog, who was happily chewing his way through her botched mending job. "I suppose so."

_So, hope you enjoyed! Assuming that Real Life cooperates, I hope so have the next chapter up in a week or so. And then we'll have some special guests:_

"Just because I'm infertile doesn't mean I'm indifferent," Grania muttered, eyeing Jason once more.

Dalton coughed and Vina reached around Arielle to pound him on the back.

_In the meantime, many thanks to all my readers and reviewers!_


	9. Promises

_It's been a productive week—and I actually have a chapter to post, mostly thanks to my fantastic reviewers (Vina and I appreciate your overall open-mindedness.) Anyway, this chapter takes place a few weeks after the previous one. And I hope you're all in comfortable chairs. _

_Disclaimer: let's hope this isn't my essay on processual anthropology or my prof. is in for a big surprise… _

Alanna escorted Dalton's sisters, Arielle—who idolized the Lioness—and Grania—who was, as she wrote to Penelope, "_absurdly old for this, but enjoying her company all the same"—_to the palace for their visit. They arrived just after the pages' midmorning practice and seemed immediately at home.

"You older sister rides like a centaur," Alanna complained. "In sidesaddle,"

"You didn't challenge her to a race?" Dalton winced at the prospect as he helped Grania down from her horse.

Alanna shrugged. "Insanity runs in my family too."

"It just runs a little faster in ours," Arielle said, hopping down to hug Dalton.

"And I've a natural advantage at sidesaddle," Grania with an ironic glance at her crippled left leg. Then she limped straight to Penelope and kissed her cheek. "Are these your squires then?" she asked, glancing at the twins, who were playfully wrestling Bandit's rag out of his jaws.

Penelope nodded. "This is Rissa and that's Vina." She paused to check that she'd identified them correctly—they'd been wearing identical lovesick smiles lately—and added, "they're Arielle's age."

After a small nudge from Dalton, Arielle came to introduce herself to the twins and ask shyly if they would be willing to help her improve her archery skills.

Alanna had already summoned a page to carry Grania and Arielle's things to their rooms. "Only after I've finished putting them through their paces," Alanna informed Arielle, leading them back towards the practice courts. "I'm only staying a few hours—I won't exhaust them entirely."

PDPD

"I admire your courage, sir," Neal greeted Dalton with a small bow. "And I question your sanity."

Dalton blinked at Neal, who gestured across the courtyard to where Alanna, Penelope, and Grania—the women who, between the three of them, could probably catalog all his flaws and humiliating moments—stood, laughing quietly together.

Dalton swallowed, realizing that his fears that Rissa and Vina would rub off on Arielle were comparatively minor.

"I could go put in a word for you," Selena offered, scratching Bandit's ears in greeting, "and see what they're saying."

"That's alright," Dalton muttered. "I'd just as soon not know."

Kel turned from her conversation with Dom to clap Dalton across the shoulders. "Wise man," she said and then turned kiss Dom and take Wilda from his arms. She passed the baby immediately to Neal, who took her automatically and stroked her cheek, so that she could pull Kefira—who was slumped against the wall in exhaustion—into her arms. "You're getting too heavy for this," she murmured, but made no move to set her oldest daughter down.

Dalton glanced from Kel to Penelope, wondering if she would have the same stubborn strength if she had…He quickly stifled the thought. But not before Neal had seen the direction of Dalton's gaze.

"And I trust your patience will serve you well," Neal added, before following Kel and her family away.

PDPD

After Alanna departed to rejoin her husband at Pirates' Swoop, they all climbed lazily onto the fence beside the practice courts to watch a handful of middle-aged knights at their afternoon duels and talk of nothing in particular.

At least until Jeck came out to visit Selena, wrapping his hands over her knees and tilting his head up to brush his nose over her cheek until she turned to kiss him. Jason came to tap on Jeck's shoulder.

"I take it back," Jason said. "You're astonishingly efficient when she's in the smithy for you to gaze at over your work. Especially when I consider the fact that nothing gets done while you're out visiting her."

Selena blushed and smiled apologetically.

Jeck chuckled and turned to glare at Jason. "You're just jealous because your work is uninspired." Then he glanced back at Selena. "I should go," he murmured reluctantly.

Selena smiled and kissed his forehead. "I'll be home for supper. Don't let Jason over salt the soup in his uninspired stupor."

"Not a chance," Jason assured them. He winked briefly at Grania before dragging Jeck away.

"Your smith has a handsome friend," Grania said to Selena. "Does he really cook?"

"Gran!" Arielle hissed, sounding slightly scandalized.

"Just because I'm infertile doesn't mean I'm indifferent," Grania muttered, eyeing Jason once more before he disappeared around the corner.

Dalton coughed and Vina reached around Arielle to pound him on the back.

"How old is he?" Grania asked, mostly for the purpose of disrupting Dalton's respiration.

"Twenty-five," Selena answered. "He's partial to seamstresses."

"I sew," Grania remarked thoughtfully.

By then, however, Dalton had taken an elbow in the ribs from Penelope and philosophically readjusted his understanding of his older sister. He didn't even blink.

"Selena! Proudcreek! Dalton!"

They all recognized Wyldon's voice instantly and leapt of the fence and to attention. Rissa and Vina landed shoulder to shoulder just behind them.

"We've gotten reports of a massive flock of hurroks—"

"I thought the proper term was herd," Arielle interrupted, "since they're mostly horses."

Wyldon blinked at her, exhibiting mild exasperation for the first time in Dalton's memory. "Perhaps we might debate the proper terminology during a more peaceful interval, my lady."

Arielle blushed and finished climbing off the fence.

"In any case," Wyldon continued, "the hurroks are flying towards the knights and Riders near Gren's Hill. The Wild Mage doesn't see any way of stopping the fight. You five are to go and assist."

Bandit sneezed against Selena's knee and Wyldon's face softened slightly. "I'll watch your dog while you're away, if you wish."

"Thanks, sir," Penelope said. "We'll leave immediately." She paused just long enough to nod at Dalton, who was helping Grania off the fence, before dashing towards the stables.

Wyldon wordlessly offered his arm to Grania, who kissed Dalton's cheek in farewell. And then Dalton hurried after the twins.

"Gren's Hill," Rissa muttered, "isn't that where Greg and his men—"

"are stationed," Vina finished. Her small, calculating smile suggested that she'd also realized which Rider groups would be there and was pleased by the idea.

PDPD

"We just have hills and hurroks in our destiny," Dalton whispered to Penelope as they arrived at Gren's Hill and surveyed the small camp of knights and Riders preparing for battle.

"At least we won't be on top of the hill this time," Penelope muttered. But it would help protect their backs if they fought in front of it.

"And there will be no long, awkward hedging before I kiss you afterwards," Dalton promised before leading both of their horses away.

"You did say goodbye to Jeck this time?" Penelope asked Selena.

"Erm, nonverbally." Selena dismounted, smiling at the memory of their last kiss. "I didn't want to waste time with words and he knows he can badger Wyldon for the wheres and whens."

"Very efficient," Penelope murmured approvingly. But she couldn't bring herself to approve entirely of the speed with which Rissa found Gregory's tent and disappeared into it.

PDPD

"Greg," Rissa called, feeling suddenly shy now that she stood outside his tent.

"What?" He flung aside his tent flap impatiently, but his face and voice changed entirely as he recognized her. "Oh, Rissa." He wrapped a hand around her elbow and ushered her inside.

"Hey," she murmured, drinking in the sight of him.

"Hey," he whispered back, his lips already drifting already over her cheek. He traced his thumb over her collarbone and studied her face as she blushed. "I missed you so much." He swallowed as though surprised by the intensity of what he felt. "I should have missed you more. You're far prettier than I remembered."

"Really?" Rissa lifted her head to kiss his jaw and then, with slow care, his lips.

"Much." Gregory ran his nose over her neck and buried it in her hair. "And better smelling too."

Rissa chuckled. "You flirt even more outrageously than I remembered."

"Do I?" Gregory undid the top button of her shirt and kissed the skin he'd exposed.

"Much," Rissa assured him, shivering.

Gregory pulled her into his arms and whispered in her ear. "It's such a lovely afternoon. We shouldn't be meeting this way. I'd much rather be taking you out for a picnic."

"It's alright," Rissa murmured, though she regretted the lost picnic. "I came to fight."

"I don't see any hurroks in this tent, lady squire," Gregory muttered.

"That—" Rissa began. But he cut off all her protests with a long and thorough kiss.

"We should go strategize." Gregory sighed but did not loosen his grip on her.

Nerves slid down her spine like ice. "Promise me you won't do anything stupid trying to protect me."

"Rissa, I'm not a perfect gentleman." He kissed her fiercely as though in demonstration. "I don't always keep my promises."

PDPD

Rissa stood between Dalton and Gregory as the knights held a last minute strategy session. It wasn't an unusual place for a small squire to stand. The possessive hand that Gregory rested at the small of Rissa's back was somewhat unorthodox. Penelope clenched her teeth and Dalton made no comment. They both recognized the guarded tenderness in Gregory's touch.

And, in any case, the meeting didn't last long. A giant shadow passed over their map and they all reached for their weapons.

"They're here," Gregory called. "Archers take aim!" And the battle began.

The archers quickly took down a few hurroks, whose twitching bodies became a tripping hazard for the fighters on the ground. And then the beasts swarmed together, flying low so that arrows were useless and they had to rely on swords and spears.

PDPD

Penelope tried to keep track of Dalton and the twins, but she lost sight of them almost immediately in the chaos. Oddly enough, she never lost sight of Selena. They fought as a team, Penelope distracting the hurroks by darting in to attack their faces and flanks, while Selena drove her sword into their hearts or throats. They had to switch places, though, when Selena took a nasty bite to her sword arm.

Vina and Rissa fought together at first, coordinating their movements effortlessly as they ducked under hooves and wings. Then a hurrok came between them as they killed it and they were attacked from opposite sides and had to drift apart, working briefly with other knights and Riders to fend off the vicious attack.

Gregory forced himself not watch Rissa's every more. It was only at the end—when there were only five hurroks left—that he allowed himself to glance her way and realized that two were diving at Rissa, one at her front and the other at her back in a coordinated attack. And he couldn't let that happen, so he leapt behind her, scarcely aware of the fatal pounding he took from the massive, cutting hooves. If there had been time to justify his decision—or even time to grab his sword from the last hurrok he'd dispatched—he might have told himself it was because he'd promised Dalton he wouldn't let anything get in the way of Rissa's knighthood.

PDPD

Dalton killed the last hurrok, sawing violently at its neck while its few surviving fellows scattered in flight. He slipped in patch of blood and had to crawl out from under the hurrok when it collapsed on top of him. When he saw what await him though, he almost wished he'd stayed down.

Gregory was dying. There was no mistaking the harsh rattling of his breath. And Rissa seemed to have almost realized it. She knelt beside him with tears streaming slowly down her cheeks.

PDPD

"Hey." Gregory gasped softly when he recognized her.

"Shhh." Rissa kissed Gregory's lips very gently, holding back a cry of alarm at the blood that bubbled between them. "Don't try to talk."

"It doesn't…hurt," he assured her, gripping weakly at one of her knees.

Rissa swallowed and wiped his face clean. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "I love you," she added, because she didn't think she'd have another chance to say it.

"You might have," he corrected faintly. "Too bad there wasn't time for a picnic."

Then his eyes closed slowly and did not reopen. And Rissa found she didn't even have the strength to sob.

PDPD

"Rissa," Dalton murmured, sitting beside her.

She made no answer, but blinked numbly, spilling more tears.

Dalton stood and cast his eyes around their small battlefield; Gregory's death made him suddenly desperate to spot Penelope.

"Vina," he called, seeing her instead.

She trotted over immediately, taking in Gregory's body and her twin's mute weeping with wide eyes. Then she knelt beside Rissa. "Sorry," she murmured. "I just sensed you weren't injured. I should have found you faster."

Rissa shrugged. It was the first response she'd made to anyone.

"Here," Dalton passed Vina an empty waterskin. "Go down to the creek and get your sister some water."

He watched Vina pick her way through the carnage and smiled at the little skip she gave when she met Karyna, who was also carrying empty waterskins. They hurried together towards the creek, their shoulders brushing together every few steps in casual reassurance.

PDPD

Karyna wound up refilling all the waterskins while Vina vomited in the bushes beside the creek. Then she wiped Vina's face, kissed her cheek, and sent her back to her sister before hurrying to look for her Rider captain.

PDPD

"Oh Goddess," Penelope hissed when she spotted Rissa, kneeling soaked in blood beside Gregory's body.

She reached instinctively for Dalton; he spun and pulled her into a desperate kiss. She returned his embrace eagerly, trying to reclaim them both from the carnage.

He sighed against her cheek and then pushed her away so he could scan her body for injuries.

"I'm fine," she muttered impatiently, reaching out a hand to examine the blood on his tunic.

"Hurrok's," he told her and she practically swayed with relief. He wrapped his fingers around her left shoulder, saw her wince as he gripped a bruise, and draped his hand lightly over her neck instead.

She nodded and they walked together back towards Rissa, who seemed completely unaware of their presence and only looked up when Vina reappeared with water. They watched rather helplessly while Vina coaxed a few sips of water down Rissa's throat.

"Selena?" Dalton asked.

"Badly bitten," Penelope answered. "They're bandaging her up near the command tent. She'll be fine after a few days of Jeck's coddling."

"Sir?"

Dalton looked up and found Karyna. She was carrying two blankets and she squeezed Vina's shoulder as she passed them to her. Dalton nodded at her and she nodded back, though she hadn't come entirely for Vina.

"They want you at the command post. Our Captain's been killed. And apparently Gregory said you were to be put in charge if he was injured."

"Right."

Dalton kissed Penelope once more and then followed the Rider towards the tents, trying to assess the damage as he walk. There weren't many human bodies but there was a lot of blood. Fortunately, no one had been mounted during the fight and all their horses had survived unscathed.

PDPD

Vina got one blanket wrapped around Rissa's shoulders and draped the other over Gregory's body.

At this point, Penelope realized that Rissa was her squire and she ought to be comforting her. Even though she had no idea how. She certainly couldn't offer reassuring lies. So she didn't.

"Come on, Rissa," she said briskly. "Stand up." She took Rissa by the elbows and assisted this process.

Rissa blinked and attempted to sit back down.

"He's dead. You're not." Penelope flinched at the brutality of her own words. "I'm sorry. I don't know…what was between the two of you. And I'm sorry that you'll never find out what could have been between you. I can't imagine what that's like. But you're—"

"It was my fault," Rissa sobbed.

"I think he…jumped in front of her," Vina whispered.

Penelope nodded her thanks. "It was his decision," she said firmly, pulling Rissa into an embrace. "I know everything's awful right now. I can't even tell you that everything's all right. But I think it will be someday. I hope so," she murmured, "because you are good and brave and strong no matter what happened today. Do you understand?"

Rissa nodded and dropped her head gratefully onto Penelope's shoulder. This was a somewhat awkward arrangement since Rissa was far taller than Penelope. But neither of them cared much.

Penelope swayed gently back and forth and lifted a soothing hand to Rissa's hair. She realized she was humming an almost familiar tune and—after a few moment's thought—identified it as something Neal whistled while he was puttering around the infirmary.

PDPD

Dalton nodded at Selena, who was slumped dazedly against a tree beside the tent, and addressed the healer—who'd already moved on to his next patient.

"Casualties?"

"Only five dead. Countless bites and broken bones."

"Are we chasing after the birdbrains that got away?" one of the Riders asked tiredly.

Dalton looked from the healer's grim face to Selena's exhausted frame and surveyed the other despondent faces, trying not to contemplate Rissa's grief.

"No," Dalton answered. "We're going straight home." Muted cheers greeted this announcement and then it was easy to give orders for packing up the camp and arranging for the gravely injured to ride double with people who could keep them upright.

PDPD

Penelope found Dalton standing between their horses, not making any particular effort to ready them.

"Now I feel guilty for doubting and disliking him," Penelope muttered. "He seems like a completely different person now that he's—"

Dalton nodded. "Me too. I might trust him with her now. Not that it does Rissa any good."

"Right. She's with Vina now. I don't think helped at all. I could only hold her while she cried."

"Sometimes that's what people need most." Dalton lifted his hand to rub a bit of dried blood from her cheekbone.

"This is all a nightmare," she said. "I don't know how to handle—"

"Just like any other nightmare," Dalton murmured.

Penelope cocked her head uncertainly. They almost never spoke of the occasional nights when she woke swearing and shivering uncontrollably and could not stop until he pulled her close and whispered soothingly in her ear. Or the nights when he woke sweat-soaked, with his heart hammering, and Penelope had to wrap her cool hands around his face and tell him to breathe slowly.

He nodded and held out his arms to her. She stepped slowly into them.

"This isn't just a dream," she whispered.

He didn't reply, but tightened his hold.

"I can't ride double with you," she said, stepping reluctantly away. "I wish I could, but it would look weak. I want to—"

"I know." He gave her a sheepish almost grin. "Me too."

PDPD

They reached the palace shortly after sunset and the Riders peeled away to make for their own stables and barracks. Wyldon was waiting with Dalton's sisters and his dog to greet the knights when they arrived at the main stables.

Bandit leapt around their legs like an endearing nuisance, Grania—apparently intuiting her grief from the way she watched Gregory's body—pulled Rissa onto a bale of hay and sat with her, and Arielle patiently helped untack their horses.

Selena had been warned about the tiring effect the bite would have on her body as it tried to fight off infection, but she wasn't prepared for the absolute exhaustion that swamped her as soon as she dismounted.

"What happened?" Jeck asked, eyeing her bandage as Wyldon led her horse into the barn.

Selena explained groggily as she followed after the horses, but she couldn't quite summon the energy to care for her mount—fortunately Arielle was—and she simply rested against the warm bulk of Jeck's chest, listening as Penelope and Dalton (with a few remarks from Vina) told Wyldon what had happened.

She'd dozed off by the time Wyldon came over to lay his fingers briefly on her feverish forehead.

"Get her home," Wyldon told Jeck. "She ought to be in bed."

The night breeze woke her somewhat when Jeck led her outside and she stopped in her tracks to consider Wyldon's words.

"Do you think he knows?"

Jeck shrugged. "No idea. But I'm going to follow his instructions very carefully," he added, scooping her into his arms for the walk back to smithy.

_ I did warn you at the beginning that there'd be blood and tears. I'm almost feeling nostalgic for the days when Rissa and Vina were simple comic relief and Gregory was an uncomplicated nemesis…But clearly my characters have minds—and a plot bunny breeding farm—of their own. Grania and Arielle will still be visiting next week and I'm hoping for less violence:_

"I'm a person." Grania folded her arms and glared at Neal. "Not a list of symptoms."

"Thank you for reminding me," he said quietly. "All healers forget sometimes. In any case, I wouldn't be able to find 'sharp-witted and recalcitrant' in any of the medical encyclopedias." 

_In the meantime, thanks for reading and reviewing!_


	10. Healing

_Many thanks to all who read and reviewed the last installment, you kept me writing all weekend. I promise that no new heartbreak is introduced in this chapter. I'm not Tamora Pierce, I'm just occupying myself on her lovely set while I wait for election results to come in._

"Maybe we can all go out and do something once the pages are done with morning practice," Arielle said hopefully as she and Grania joined Dalton and Penelope and their squires on the edge of the courtyard.

Dalton nodded and they all glanced carefully at Rissa, who shrugged apathetically.

"Or maybe we'd better do something restful today," Penelope said slowly.

"You can leave me alone." Rissa spoke in a monotone. "I'm not a child."

Penelope didn't like the way Vina's eyes flew to the dagger on Rissa's belt. If anyone could predict Rissa's darker impulses, it would be Vina.

"I'll sit with her this afternoon," Selena offered. Then she turned to face Rissa. "If you don't mind my company."

Rissa shrugged again. "Suit yourself."

Dalton blinked at Selena, who had apparently shuffled out to the practice courts in her slippers. "Aren't you supposed to be in bed?"

"Isn't sitting close enough?" Selena asked.

Dalton glanced skeptically at her bandaged arm. "But your—"

"Did all men become impossible overnight?" Selena demanded. "Or are you in on Wyldon's conspiracy to keep me from even contemplating motion?" She sighed loudly and uncharacteristically. "First Jeck tried to smother me in blankets—in the middle of the smithy, I might add—in the middle of summer. And then Jason tried to stuff me full of soup. And now—" she frowned and sat down as a wave of dizziness hit her.

Dalton swallowed and refrained from remarking on this.

"I'm not up for much else today," Selena admitted. "But sitting I can manage."

"I can watch her," Rissa muttered, soundly slightly more alert.

Dom walked by just then, carrying one twin in each arm. "Are you sure you should be out of bed?" he asked Selena. "I heard you took a bad bite yesterday."

"Well," Vina remarked, "that would appear to validate your theory that they all went impossible overnight."

"Some of us love them anyway," Penelope said, wrapping her fingers around Dalton's forearm. "And would like to go out riding with one in particular this afternoon."

"Can we go to the forest?" Arielle asked.

Dalton glanced at Grania, who shrugged her agreement.

PDPD

It happened because Penelope was too busy glancing back at Rissa and Selena to pay proper attention to Nicolas, the first year page whose spear thrust she was supposed to be blocking. And Nicolas naturally expected her to duck or block his sharp practice weapon. Only she didn't duck or block and wound up with a spear lodged loosely in her left arm.

She flinched and ripped it out, biting her lip to keep from introducing new and potent curses into the pages' vocabulary.

"Sorry," Nicolas said, sounding genuinely repentant and slightly intimidated. "I didn't mean—"

"No real harm done," Penelope assured him, clapping a handkerchief over the wound to staunch any bleeding. It was a good thing the boy's eyes were green, she thought. They resembled Dalton's—actually Nicolas looked much the way she imagined a younger brother or son of Dalton's would. Penelope shook her head to clear it of this somewhat disconcerting thought.

"Excellent stance, by the way," she told Nicolas.

"Yes," Dalton added dryly as he ushered Penelope towards the sidelines. "Very effective."

"I'm fine," she informed Dalton. And then promptly flinched when Dalton attempted to peel away the handkerchief and inspect her injury. "Just a little sore," she amended.

"And clearly well-practice at the art of understatement," Grania observed, hopping off the fence and hobbling towards them. "Not that—" she winced and ducked her head, lifting her fingers to her own forehead.

"Are you alright?" Dalton asked. He knew from painful experience that the sight of blood didn't make Grania the least bit queasy.

"Fine," Penelope and Grania snapped simultaneously, turning sharply towards him. Then they both hissed in discomfort.

"Is it another of your headaches Gran?" Arielle asked, setting a gentle hand on Grania's shoulder.

"You should have said something," Dalton said. He and Arielle exchanged a dark glance and Penelope knew they were thinking of the fever that had left Grania crippled and barren, among other chronic symptoms.

"It only just occurred to me," Grania hissed through clenched teeth. "It's already passing."

"Still," Dalton said. "You should probably both visit Queenscove."

"Really—"Penelope began.

"I insist," Dalton said, before Grania could add her own protests. "Or I'll set him after you."

Selena coughed amusedly from the bench where she sat with Rissa.

"You were right," Penelope called to her, still glaringly lovingly at Dalton.

"We might ask Master Salmalin to explain it," Selena agreed. "But he's probably just as bad as the others.

"If not worse," Vina muttered.

In the end, Arielle's murmured, "you probably should see a healer," sent Penelope and Grania walking towards the infirmary, while Dalton and Arielle—with considerable help from the wet nose Bandit insisted upon sticking in Vina's ear—coaxed Vina away from her twin for a walk around the palace the grounds.

PDPD

"I thought you came back from yesterday's mess in one piece," Neal muttered when Penelope appeared in the infirmary door.

"I might have left a little common sense behind." Penelope ducked her head sheepishly and let him examine her arm. "Or lost a little sleep."

"Or let a first year page attempt impalement," Grania added.

Neal scanned her face in surprise. "And who might you be?"

"I'm Dalton's older sister, Grania." She clasped Neal's hand and then let him get back to investigating Penelope's arm.

"One of those formidable women you warned me about," Penelope added, twitching her nose at the tickling sensation of healing magic. "We're here for her headache."

"Which pales in comparison to her arm," Grania assured Neal when he turned to glance in her direction.

"Quite literally," Neal muttered.

"I've always been fair," Grania informed him. "I'll wait my turn."

Neal grimaced as though he were anticipating a headache of his own and finished bandaging Penelope's arm. Then he set a finger on his former squire's nose and backed her onto a cot.

"You are to spend the next few hours resting while your body recovers from that healing," he informed her.

"Which was completely unnecessary," Penelope lied.

"You would have made it through the morning completely uninjured if you'd been well-rested in the first place."

Neal took a moment's satisfaction from watching Penelope's jaw snap shut and then turned to Grania.

"Headache, pale complexion—"he glanced at her weak leg. "Any other complaints? Dizziness? Fatigue? Lack of—"

"I'm a person." Grania folded her arms and glared at Neal. "Not a list of symptoms."

"Thank you for reminding me," he said quietly. "All healers forget sometimes. In any case, I wouldn't be able to find 'sharp-witted and recalcitrant' in any of the medical encyclopedias." 

"Perhaps it's next to the invisible entry on 'independent women and other oddities'," Penelope put in. "Or near the section on 'healers who keep perfectly healthy people in bed with minor injuries'," she added pointedly.

"It's so good to see that your cynicism survived intact," Neal muttered, searching his shelf for feverfew, which would relieve Grania's headache. "But sometimes I have an urge to write a section on 'lady knights, otherwise known as obstinate individuals who can't distinguish between paternalism and common sense advice'".

"How unfortunate that you no longer have a squire to do your editing." Penelope glared at the foot of her cot.

Neal did not answer. He was too busy glowering at the shelf on which he expected to find his jar of feverfew. He scowled, sighing, and scanned a few other shelves before pouncing on the correct jar.

"I might have to reorganize for you," Grania muttered as she watched him brew her tea. "Your mess is aggravating my headache."

"Then it can't have been that grave to begin with."

"That's what I've been telling everyone." Grania set aside her mug and marched towards the shelves.

Neal retreated, ducking quickly out of her way. "If I didn't know any better," he told Penelope, "I'd say you married Dalton for his sisters."

Penelope shrugged, mostly to prove to Neal that her injured shoulder was perfectly mobile. "They were an additional benefit."

PDPD

Dalton left Vina and Arielle throwing sticks for Bandit to fetch in the creek that cut across the Riders' pastures and headed back to the palace, and doubled back to check on Rissa.

She'd saved him the trouble of a long walk, however, and was standing with her arms wrapped over the pasture fence as though it were the only thing holding her up. She sighed and cocked her head at him as he approached.

"Hey," he said. "Let's go for a walk." Then he remembered that he'd issued a similar invitation to Vina—though for very different reasons—less than a month before and wondered how many such walks he'd go on before the twins were knighted.

Rissa shrugged and fell into step beside him. "It isn't fair," she said finally.

"No," Dalton agreed quietly. "It wasn't." Now was not the moment to point out that very few things in life were.

"He didn't deserve—I should have been the one who died."

"He didn't think so," Dalton murmured, though Rissa seemed not to hear him.

"He shouldn't have been—he was—we hadn't even done anything." Rissa blushed slightly, though Dalton thought she seemed more angry than embarrassed. "Not really," she spat. "Apparently he was too chivalrous to do anything with me but get killed jumping in front of monsters."

Dalton thought that this was probably just as well. Rissa was young and better off feeling she had too few memories than too many. Not that he wanted to brave telling Rissa this.

"He really cared for you," Dalton said instead, "in his own way. No one can doubt that."

"I suppose not," Rissa murmured. "And I'm still not certain exactly how I felt about him. I guess I never will be. It doesn't matter now, does it?"

"It will always matter, at least a little."

"Then maybe I loved him. Not that I'll ever know since I won't have anything to compare it to." Rissa looked across the pasture, pretending to watch a pair of chestnut ponies race along the fence. "Because no one will ever want anything to do with me —"

Dalton took Rissa's shoulder and gently turned her to face him. "You'll love again. I promise. You'll be loved again. You'll certainly be kissed again."

"How would you know?" she glared sullenly at him.

He hesitated a moment and then carefully kissed her—on the forehead, so neither of them would get the wrong idea—before stepping back again. "I just know," he said firmly.

Rissa nodded and wiped her eyes on her sleeve. Then she sighed. "I'm not sure I want to do this over again anyway. It's painful and confusing."

"Sometimes it is," Dalton agreed. "You're young Rissa, and--"

"Yes, grandfather." Rissa sounded like a shadow of her old self.

Dalton still grinned briefly at her. "Even younger than I am," he amended. "Give yourself time."

"Until I earn my shield, you mean?"

"I doubt you'll let Penelope and me off that easily," he muttered. "Not that we wouldn't appreciate it."

Rissa's chuckle was snot-laced and it ended in a brief bout of tears, but Dalton thought it was progress.

Apparently Vina thought so too. She smiled at Rissa when she and Dalton rejoined Arielle and Bandit at the creek. And Rissa nodded back her.

"Good," said Vina.

"Enough for now." Rissa shrugged and knelt to bury her fingers in Bandit's fur.

"Right." Vina glanced from Rissa to Dalton. "I think I might—"

"Go visit Karyna," Rissa finished, turning her twin's suggestion into an almost teasing command.

Dalton shrugged his approval and Vina touched her twin's shoulder before setting of towards the Riders' barracks.

Arielle, heedless of the danger of grass stains, spread her skirts and plopped down beside Rissa to scratch Bandit's rump in companionable silence.

The dog sighed loudly and Dalton echoed him as he sat down to watch the creek run by.

PDPD

"Jeck, we've been forgiven," Jason called as Selena returned to the smithy.

"Good." Jeck emerged from his place near the forge, wiping his hands on a rag.

"Jeck, we're being invaded," Jason hissed as Grania, Penelope, and Arielle followed.

"I'd recommend a policy of appeasement," Jeck muttered absently as he pulled Selena towards. "Since you appear to be outnumbered." He was too busy studying Selena's face to come to come to his friend's assistance.

"Right," Jason said. "What can I do for you ladies?"

"You could begin by offering us some soup," Grania answered.

"Especially after we've gone to the trouble of supplying bowls," Vina added, ushering Rissa inside with one hand and balancing a stack of bowls on the other. Dalton pulled the doors closed behind them.

"I can recognize an ultimatum when I hear one," Jason assured them, pulling a ladle from its hook with an elaborate flourish.

"Good." Grania smiled and took a seat at the table. "We can continue negotiations while we're eating."

"That will be quite unnecessary, my lady," Jason assured her, "you've already thoroughly disarmed me with your considerable charm." He set the first bowl before her and gestured for the others to serve themselves.

"Not entirely," Grania protested. "I suspect you're holding a stack of ginger cakes in reserve."

"Surely my lady knows better than to expect me to make such an admission at this stage in the proceedings." Jason set butter and salt on the table. "Especially not while I have other weapons in my arsenal," he added, pulling a golden-brown loaf of bread from his oven.

Eventually, however, Selena forced the admission by beginning to nod off at the table and thereby persuading Jeck to retrieve said ginger cakes in the hope of keeping her awake.

_So, that's all for this week! I hope you enjoyed it. I'm about to enter midterm madness, but I promise to post at least one chapter before Thanksgiving, because Penelope has a few things to deal with:_

She swallowed and met his eyes. "I'm preparing for all contingencies, some of them less likely than others."

"I should hope so," he muttered, raising an eyebrow as he scanned line again.


	11. Contingencies

_Here we are again. Many thanks to all my lovely reviewers and many apologies for the delay in updating—I promise I spent most of it writing papers and watching depressing movies for academic purposes…As usual, set and recognizable members of the cast belong to Tamora Pierce. Enjoy! _

As soon as Grania and Arielle departed, taking all their soothing and distracting conversations with them, Rissa threw herself into training with a new and unrivaled vengeance. Two weeks later, Karyna's rider group left and Vina devoted herself to working with her twin through every early morning and long afternoon.

Penelope gradually realized that, while the twins still needed coaching, they often improved even more when she stopped supervising every step and left them alone. So she quit trying to spend every possible minute one the practice courts with her squires.

This was good. It gave her time to spar with Selena (who had completely recovered both from her bite and Jeck's coddling). And she spent several glorious fall afternoons out riding with Dalton.

It was also confusing. She had entirely too much time to think about her aunt's demands that she "consider her inheritance and come to something formal."

And—probably because she'd learned the knack of keeping them from crying by letting them chew on her fingers—she was asked to hold Mindelan's babies more often. So was Selena. This led to some strange conversations.

"Peekaboo!" Selena exclaimed, poking Wilda's nose. "Are you visiting Dalton's family for midwinter?" she asked Penelope.

"No, we're staying here." Penelope bounced Wilda on her knee and reached out to wriggle her fingers at Peregrine. "Unfortunately Vina and Rissa's parents will be visiting."

Selena winced. Penelope couldn't tell if this was in sympathy or if it was a reaction to the strawberry jam handprint Peregrine had just deposited on sleeve.

"What about you and—"Penelope threw her lips into a quiet smile as Wyldon approached and Selena blinked gratefully at her.

Wyldon squatted to face both babies, both of whom offered him solemn smiles. "Looking exceedingly well—"he winked at the babies—"all four of you." He touched Wilda's chin and then Peregrine's, nodding approvingly as though he were examining prize dogs. "I trust they're behaving for their knightly minders." He attempted to stand again and grimaced awkwardly.

"As you see, sir." Selena took a firm grip on his hand and helped him.

Wyldon smiled at both of them. "One did not see young ladies sitting about with other people's babies and their own shields in my day." He shook his head. "You'd have had your own babies and embroidery in your laps."

"We're not so ambitious these days," Penelope informed him. "I couldn't manage both at once without either sewing the baby to the bench or watching her rip my work to shreds." She cocked her head at Wilda. "Possibly both."

"Besides," Selena added. "Shields are far more practical—they're easier to wash than embroidery and you can't accidentally stick a baby with a needle you're not holding."

Wyldon's sigh was almost a chuckle as he surveyed them all once more. "It's almost enough to make old age worthwhile." He fixed his eyes momentarily on Selena and Peregrine. "Don't let him distract you from your sword work," he instructed. Then he walked away slowly, his stiff legs gradually loosening.

"Sometimes I think he knows," Selena murmured once he was out of earshot.

"Oreprhmm?" Penelope inquired as Wilda shoved a tiny fist into her mouth.

Selena reached over to help Penelope extract the offending digits. "About me and Jeck. Living together, I mean."

Penelope nodded. "He did wink. But you were his squire—you'd know better than anyone else what he thinks."

Selena pursed her lips. "But he can't possibly approve."

Penelope shrugged and Wilda giggled. "That doesn't necessarily mean he disapproves."

"I don't think I'll ever understand people," Selena murmured as Peregrine's head settled sleepily on her chest.

"Me neither—I'm not sure I want to." Penelope glanced across the courtyard, realized that Dalton was watching her smooth Wilda's hair, and found herself blushing as though she were a bewildered page once more. She dropped her eyes to Wilda's head. "Is he asleep yet?" she asked Selena.

"Not quite," Selena murmured. "Do you ever think about having…" she rolled her eyes towards the toddler in her lap.

But Penelope was saved from answering this question when Wilda suddenly grabbed two fistfuls of her hair and yanked savagely at it, protesting violently when Penelope attempted to disentangle herself.

PDPD

A week later, Dalton and Penelope agreed to assist Wyldon in preparing a lecture on strategic combat against Immortals. Penelope spent the morning writing notes for it and then mysteriously disappeared soon after Dalton returned to their room to work on his section of the lecture. He had just finished preparing his own notes when Bandit suddenly lifted his head and cocked an ear towards the door.

Dalton set aside his papers and stretched as Penelope entered.

"Where have you been all afternoon?"

Penelope swallowed and laid a small stack of papers on the desk in front of him. "You should probably read this. It needs your signature to be legalized. And then I'm going to need an hour on the practice courts, preferably with you."

"I take it this isn't your half of the lecture."

It was a legal document, long and complex enough to explain Penelope's frowning and fidgeting.

He rested his elbows on the table and began reading. It dealt with the lands and titles for Penelope home fief, Proudcreek, which they would be holding jointly as of Penelope's twentieth birthday.

"I thought you were keeping control of all your titles." Dalton glanced at Penelope, who was resting one foot on his knee as she stretched her leg.

"I am." She switched legs gracefully. "That doesn't preclude my sharing them with you if I wish. Which I do. I'd get to share the titles if you were inheriting any land, so I might as well do the same for you. Not that it will mean much since my aunt's going to continue administering on a day-to-day basis, probably for the rest of her life. Anyway, apparently all those lines are required to specify that we hold it jointly, but you technically can't make major decisions without my authorization. And your family won't get much if I die, unless—you can probably skip to the next page."

"What's this about children?" he murmured once he'd done so.

She swallowed and met his eyes. "I'm not sure what we'll—I'll want in two or five or ten years. So, I'm preparing for all contingencies, some of them less likely than others."

"I should hope so," he muttered, raising an eyebrow as he scanned the line again. " _In the event of her untimely death—_I'd just as soon avoid that particular contingency entirely if you don't mind—"

"Not at all," Penelope assured him, bending over to stretch both arms behind her back.

"_ the Proudcreek lands and titles," _Dalton continued,_ "shall fall first to Lady Knight Penelope's children of said union with Lord Dal—_

"Did the lawyer really specify 'said union'?" Penelope demanded, straightening indignantly.

"Apparently, he doesn't think your independent streak extends to producing children without certain minimal male assistance."

"I suppose he's right. I wouldn't enter into such a production without a long-term contribution from you," Penelope murmured, taking his free hand between her own.

Dalton kissed her temple, acknowledging the unspoken 'if', and continued reading and lifting his eyebrows. _"Any children born to Lady Penelope_—hmmm, this does have rather insulting implications—_outside said union are to receive equal portions of wealth from the estate."_

Penelope frowned; she certainly didn't remember negotiating that bit. "Or perhaps he was flirting with me after all. It's rather difficult to read body language off the practice courts."

Dalton scowled fondly at her. "You probably accidentally led the poor man on."

"I did not—well, I might have watched him with glazed eyes as he babbled about primogeniture." She grimaced. "You've no reason to be jealous though, he's missing several teeth and a sense of humor."

Dalton smothered his grin and continued reading. _"…if, however, said marriage bears no fruit—_apparently we're now an orchard—or possibly a vineyard—he doesn't specify—_titles shall fall to Lord Dalton, and upon his death—_another lovely contingency—_will revert to cousins of the Proudcreek line—_Should I worry about poisoning attempts if I outlive you?"

Penelope shook her head. "No. If Ludric wants you dead, he'll send an assassin with a dagger." 

"Nothing like family, is there?"

"Which brings us to one last caveat."

"What's that?"

"My great aunt has every intention of living to one hundred," Penelope said. "She's one of those scrawny opinionated old women who usually manages whatever she sets out to do and insults whomever she pleases along the way."

"Are you going to wind up that way as well?"

"Probably. Do you mind terribly?"

Dalton shook his head. "I plan to be a livelier version of Wyldon. Only hopefully I'll have more hair."

Penelope tilted her head and sized him up. "I'll look forward to remarking upon it if you don't." She stepped close and kissed him.

"And you"—he paused to kiss each of her cheeks—"are going to have lovely laugh lines."

"That will be entirely your fault." Penelope grinned as Dalton wrapped his arms around her.

"Then I'll cherish all the crinkles," Dalton promised, lowering his lips to hers once more.

Bandit whined loudly, calling their attention the soft but frantic knocking on their door.

"Come in," Penelope called, stepping reluctantly away from Dalton.

Vina ducked inside and shut the door behind herself. "I've done something unbelievably stupid."

Dalton looked Vina over in alarm, but saw no blood. Her only apparent injury was faded, week-old bruise on her wrist. And Karyna was away, so presumably she hadn't stumbled into a romantic disaster.

"Where's Rissa?" Penelope demanded.

"Our room." Vina winced. "Hopefully she won't kill me for this if I live through the evening."

"Vina," Dalton said. "Would you care to inform us exactly what you mean by 'unbelievably stupid'?"

Vina dropped her eyes to the floor and informed it that she'd challenged Marcel to a duel. "Does that qualify?"

"Twice over," Penelope assured her. "What were you thinking?"

"He's been blaming Rissa—"she bit her lip—"for what happened to Gregory. Of course Marcel blithely overlooks the fact that it's his own fault he stopped talking to Gregory after they started…Anyway, after Rissa left this afternoon he kept saying that Gregory would still be alive if he hadn't been taken in by Rissa's—erm." Apparently he'd used words that weren't in Vina's polite vocabulary.

Penelope clamped her jaws sut, remembering similar accusations she'd faced in the past. Dalton ran sympathetic fingers over her shoulder blade.

"So I uh, temporarily misplaced my temper and marched up and slapped him with my glove." Vina swallowed. "And I challenged him to a duel on the east practice court in two hours."

"And he accepted?" Penelope muttered, rubbing her forehead.

"After a prolonged exchange of insults," Vina confessed. She took a nervous step sideways, accidentally landing on Bandit's paw so that he sprang up yelping.

"You do realize," Dalton murmured, scratching Bandit's ears to quiet him. "That Marcel, no matter how despicable we find him, is twice your size and has several more years experience."

"That dawned on me fairly quickly, sir."

"She'll just have to be twice as fast," Penelope muttered. Then she turned to Vina. "How drunk was he?"

Vina frowned thoughtfully. "He managed my name all right, but he kept slurring Rissa's."

Penelope nodded. "I suppose it's too much to hope he'll forget to show up."

Vina winced. "I'm afraid he's rather looking forward to it."

"That makes one of us," Dalton muttered.

"But," Penelope continued with a meaningful glance at Dalton, "with a little luck, he'll show up overconfident and uncoordinated."

Vina blinked.

"By luck," Dalton informed Vina, "she means the judicious application of additional ale and brandy."

Vina's eyes widened and she nodded.

"Go eat something," Penelope ordered. "And drink some water. But stay warm and loose. I'll join you on the east court in an hour."

"Thanks," Vina whispered. Then she vanished to obey Penelope.

PDPD

Penelope sat slowly on the bed. "I wasn't planning to spend the day confronting my mortality, fertility, and responsibility."

"Nobody does," Dalton muttered. "So, how old is she now?" He began pulling on his boots.

"Nearly sixteen." Penelope winced. "As demonstrated by the current foolishness."

"I meant your aunt."

"I'm not quite brave enough to ask, but she's been sixty-nine for about a decade now."

"I see." Dalton squeezed her fingers. "Well, hopefully that gives us a few years to consider matters."

"And you've a got few hours to coax as much brandy as possible down Marcel's throat."

"And no strategy for doing so," Dalton warned her. "We aren't exactly regular drinking companions."

PDPD

"Vina what?" Mindelan whispered, glancing across the room to be sure her own twins were still asleep.

"Challenged Marcel to a duel over Rissa's honor," Dalton murmured, though he was fairly certain it had been a rhetorical exclamation since he'd thoroughly explained the situation already.

"I didn't think she'd—I thought she was the sensible—she shouldn't have--"Mindelan frowned. "But Marcel's a full knight—I can't do anything to stop it." She glanced down at her tightly interlaced fingers.

"It's always the quiet ones," Dom observed philosophically, smiling at his wife. As though to prove his point, his oldest daughter chose that moment to slip out the door unnoticed.

"Erm," said Dalton. "So, any advice on inebriating Marcel in an hour?"

Mindelan scowled disapprovingly, but allowed her husband to cover her ears for the purpose of maintaining her official ignorance.

"You might have to offer him an entirely different challenge," Dom said.

Dalton winced.

"I think you'd best have Penelope deliver the bulk of your lecture tomorrow," Mindelan observed.

PDPD

Kefira didn't run. She knew by now that whoever spotted her running would wonder if she was supposed to be out. No one would think twice if she walked purposefully as though she was running an errand for her parents. Her mother was the training master, after all, and her father a leader of the Own.

Still, it didn't take her long to reach the Vina and Rissa's room in the squires' quarters. She glanced about to be sure the hall was empty before knocking politely on their door.

PDPD

"How are you feeling?" Penelope asked when she found Vina stretching on the east court.

"I've no idea," Vina muttered. "I'm not even angry anymore."

"Good. Angry gets people distracted and distracted—"

"gets people dead," Vina finished quietly. "That's sort of why we're doing this in the first place, isn't it?"

Penelope grimaced in agreement.

Vina flinched. "Only—no one's actually going to—I mean—we wouldn't really—tonight—it's only—"

"A duel." Penelope took Vina by the shoulders. "Which is potentially quite serious and which, ideally, will end as soon as you draw first blood."

Vina nodded carefully and tried to answer Penelope, but found that the words wouldn't come out.

"Vina." Penelope sounded almost amused. "Unless you are attempting to cure hiccups or swim underwater, breathing generally improves your performance."

PDPD

Armed with a flask of Alanna's best brandy and two glasses, Dalton found Marcel in his preferred corner of the dining hall. He didn't bother slapping Marcel with his glove, but simply slammed the glasses onto the table and filled them with an ironic shrug, which Marcel—in a rare moment of perception—understood perfectly. He couldn't resist a challenge from an opponent he expected to beat.

Dalton was only too willing to cede this particular victory after a half-hearted show of force.

Unfortunately, Marcel didn't have a great deal of time to revel in his victory.

"'S'not right to keepa lady waitin'," he informed Dalton as they picked their way punctually across the practice courts.

PDPD

"How late is late enough to forfeit?" Vina asked.

"He's still early," Penelope informed her. "The bell hasn't rung yet."

Marcel appeared, half-swaggering, half-staggering just as the bell finished chiming. Dalton followed behind him and decided that, in the absence of any convenient benches, he'd best lean against Penelope and rest his chin on her shoulder.

Marcel glared blearily at Penelope and Vina for a moment. Then he drew his blade, dropped an insolent bow, and lunged.

Vina got her blade out just in time to counter his charge and defended herself easily against his next ten attacks, but he was lurching too wildly for her to plan an effective offensive. They spent a long circling the court, their blades clanging spectacularly but to little effect. A small crowd—mostly squires and mostly rooting for Vina—gathered to watch the duel and place bets on its outcome.

"This is taking too long," Penelope whispered. "Vina might wear herself out before she lands a blow. Are you sure he was properly incapacitated?"

Dalton groaned softly at the memory. Their blades seemed to be clanging inside his head. "He had twice as much as me, but he's had a great deal of experience fighting drunk. For all we know, he's better this way—he is carrying two swords."

"Is he?" Penelope lifted her hand to her mouth. "I only count one."

Dalton blinked. "But there are two of Vina."

Penelope scanned the small crowd and wondered momentarily if Dalton's brandy-scented breath was clouding her judgment. Then she realized it was Rissa, carrying her sword, eating an apple, and prowling casually along the edge of the practice court.

PDPD

Rissa lifted her blade to salute Penelope without taking her eyes of the fight.

Which ended almost immediately because Marcel spotted the motion and gaped at this apparent doubling of his opponent while Vina darted in and made a neat slice down his left sleeve.

"Mmm," Rissa observed around a mouthful of apple. "Perhaps I am rather distracting."

"Nothing wrong with that," a fellow squire muttered. Rissa recognized him as Byrn, one of the squires in the year above hers; he'd been practicing alongside Rissa and Vina for the past few weeks. "Although it does leave Sir Lost-to-a-squire without the excuse of being blind-drunk."

Marcel swung at Vina in retaliation, but she blocked confidently and stepped off the court to stand beside her twin.

"Perhaps someone ought to escort Sir Lost-to-a-squire home for the evening," Rissa said.

"We wouldn't want him to be distracted along the way," Vina added.

"I'd be—well, not honored exactly," Byrn said. "But I'll do the honors."

Rissa smiled slightly. "I'd be much obliged."

Byrn nodded at Rissa, saluted Vina, and dragged Marcel off by grabbing a handful of his tunic.

Rissa turned to face her twin, torn between glaring and giggling.

"Sorry," Vina murmured. "I shouldn't have—"

"Yes—well, no, but I would have done the same." Rissa nibbled at her apple.

"I think he rather admires you," Vina remarked.

Rissa stiffened. "I'm not—Byrn—"she blushed and glanced downwards.

"might be considered good-looking," Vina considered, "if one were inclined to appreciate tall, handsome men."

Rissa rolled her eyes. "Thanks." She took a last bite of her apple and tossed away the core. "For—everything."

"Always." Vina wiped the last of the nervous sweat from her palms.

"For the record," Rissa told Vina. "I'm laying claim to our next reckless act of monumental stupidity."

"It's all yours," Vina muttered.

"It might also involve men, brandy, and dueling," Rissa mused. "I can't always be original and—"

"They are classics," Vina agreed.

PDPD

"To be used sparingly," Penelope reminded them as she approached, walking with one arm wrapped about Dalton's waist.

Dalton squinted at Rissa. "How did you know when to show up?"

"Well—"

"Fira!" Mindelan's voice made them all jump to attention. It was an old instinct. "Where are you?"

Then a sturdy little hand slipped into Penelope's and squeezed tightly, pleading for rescue from maternal wrath.

Penelope sighed and wrapped her arm over Kefira's shoulders. "Over here," she called. "She was just doing us a favor."

"Was she?" Dom muttered, though he took Fira's hand immediately when she reached for her more lenient parent.

"It was all my fault," Rissa said, sounding completely unrepentant.

Mindelan smiled at the twins, relieved to rediscover this more self-assured Rissa.

"Maybe it isn't always the quiet ones," Dalton murmured. "Maybe they're just more likely to be remarked upon when it is." He frowned, trying to make sense of what he'd said.

"See?" Fira said, smiling brightly at her mother.

"Almost," Kel murmured, ruffling her daughter's hair in a manner that suggested that Fira's 'punishment' would consist of supper with her parents since Neal was already minding the sleeping twins…

PDPD

"I'm still confused," Dalton muttered, scrawling his signature at the bottom of the papers Penelope had brought in that afternoon.

"Me too." Penelope added her own name. "I think that's intentional." She blew out their lamp, pulled back the covers, and gently toppled Dalton into bed. "It _is_ a legal document." She shoved Bandit out of the way, ignoring his pleading eyes, and settled beside Dalton.

Dalton studied her face for a long moment before he pulled her head to his chest and ran his fingers over her hair. "But why—"

"I don't want a home you can't be part of." She brushed her nose against his neck. "We work well together."

"About that," Dalton murmured. "We're supposed to lecture Wyldon on military strategy for students yesterday." He paused. "Did that make sense?"

"Not quite. I'll dream up a contingency plan overnight," she promised.

_So, hopefully only Dalton was incoherent—I'm suffering from late-November brain fog, but I wanted to get this up before Thanksgiving! The next episode will hopefully be ready by mid-December and (for once, appropriately) will feature mid-winter fluff (amongst other delicacies). Preview: _

"It's not as though they write about this sort of situation in military strategy texts," Dalton said.

"Most certainly not," Penelope muttered. "I've absolutely no idea what to wear."

_Thanks for reading and reviewing! And best wishes for a fluffy Thanksgiving! (Can you tell I'm firmly in the Julia Child's "fluffy-soufflé-style pumpkin pie" camp?)_


	12. Presuming

_Hello again. Thanks to all my wonderful readers and reviewers! Here's your midwinter chapter—or the first half of it anyway, it had to be broken into two parts—the second will hopefully be up by the 21__st__. Hopefully this took so long that everyone has finished finals and I won't be distracting anyone from their studies…Anyway, this chapter begins a few weeks after the last—as always, the setting and recognizable members of the cast belong to Tamora Pierce. Happy reading! _

Keladry held a small afternoon tea in her sitting room a week or so before midwinter. She invited both Alanna and Wyldon (operating under the assumption that she could hand each of them a fussy toddler and expect that their rivalry would naturally extend to a child-quieting competition and pointedly ignoring Dom's assertion that he wasn't willing to mop up any drinks they might spill during a heated discussion) along with Neal's family, Penelope, Dalton, and, of course, George (this Kel did regret somewhat as he insisted on continuing to instruct Fira in the overlooked art of pickpocketing.) She also invited Daine's family, but, given the size of her sitting room, was rather relieved to hear that they were busy collaborating with a friendly centaur in a complex magical experiment.

Wyldon's arrival was absolutely punctual and Alanna's was fashionably late. Neal and Yuki, and their children, were settled between them physically and chronologically. George was rather pleased with this arrangement—he'd choreographed it himself.

Penelope and Dalton did not arrive until after the tea had begun to cool. They came passing a letter back and forth and wearing tight smiles.

"What have your squires done?" Kel asked, offering them a plate of cakes.

"What were their parents thinking?" Penelope countered, absently taking a lemon cake. That was a bad sign. She'd never liked lemon-flavored sweets.

"At the moment of conception?" Neal queried. "Or did you have a more recent event in mind?"

"When they sent us this," Penelope clarified, passing the letter to Kel.

"It's an invitation from Lord and Lady Lanton," Dalton explained, when he noticed Alanna passing Wilda to George so she could read the letter for herself. "They'll be visiting for midwinter and they want us to dine with them."

"I see," said Kel, frowning at the letter as though hoping it would transform into a harmless map of the Royal Forest. "Do you want me to accompany you?" she added reluctantly.

"I think it maybe you'd better not," Penelope said quietly. "They'll feel we have more authority if you're not there. Hopefully we will too."

Kel nodded. "You'll do fine. It's just a matter of presenting yourselves properly at dinner."

"Which we'd be perfectly capable of doing," Dalton said, "if only we knew how to go about it. This isn't the sort of situation one sees diagramed in military strategy texts."

"Most certainly not," Penelope muttered. "And I've absolutely no idea what to wear."

Wyldon gaped as though she'd announced her intention to meet Lord and Lady Lanton in the nude. Alanna glared sharply at him.

"I'd advise split skirts," George said thoughtfully, wrapping one hand over Alanna's knee to keep her from getting up. "In a dark color, perhaps navy blue."

Alanna took her eyes off Wyldon to stare at her husband.

George shrugged. "I am a diplomat.

"Among other things," Alanna muttered. Then she turned to consider Penelope. "And a longish tunic," Alanna muttered, "also navy blue—you're lucky it brings out your eyes. Pull your hair back—so you'll at least look older than Rissa—but not too severely."

"Carry a sizeable dagger," Mindelan added quietly.

"Preferably silver," Dom interjected.

"But not your sword."

Penelope glanced from Wyldon to Dalton and Neal. "Have you anything to add?"

"Wait a moment," George said, holding up a hand. He fixed Dom with a stern gaze. "Is that a bet?"

Dom shook his head.

"I thought not." George gestured for the three men to continue.

Wyldon coughed. "No, I believe they've covered the matter sufficiently."

Penelope looked at Neal and Dalton, who glanced at one another and shrugged.

Alanna coughed and both men hastened to assure Penelope (who maintained a straight face only with heroic effort) that they had no doubt she would look beautiful whatever she wore.

PDPD

Wyldon left as soon as he'd finished his tea—possibly because he didn't wish to hear Lady Alanna's remarks on the "unreasonably confusing demands" put upon lady knights at formal dress occasions—and Neal followed soon after—possibly because this reduced the his likelihood of witnessing a violently entertaining squabble. Penelope and Dalton left with Neal because he asked them to help carry a new bookshelf to the infirmary. This meant that the two young knights carried the cumbersome shelf while Neal tucked the matching stool under his arm, which left him plenty of breath for chatting.

"It was a valid question on your part," Neal remarked. "You lady knights have wrought havoc on several distinguished etiquette manuals. It's been years and I'm still not entirely sure when I ought to be getting the door for you."

"Here's a hint," Penelope grunted. "This shelf of yours isn't light."

"By which she means to imply that she'll be inclined to kick your shins if you fail to open the door for her on this particular occasion," Dalton informed Neal, sounding as though he shared his wife's inclination.

Neal darted around both of them and opened the infirmary door with a mock bow. "Here's to the obsolescence of _Etiquette for All Occasions._"

PDPD

Rissa and Vina spent the afternoon before midwinter on the practice court alongside several other squires, all working off the nervous energy with which they anticipated their parents' arrival.

Tobe's appearance distracted Vina and granted Rissa her sharpest victory of the week. Vina didn't seem to mind.

"Hey Tobe," she called. "Do you know if all the Tricksters are back yet?"

He smiled knowingly. "They just got in. They're still caring for their mounts." Tobe nodded farewell and then hurried past on his way to see the training master and her family.

Rissa surveyed Vina. "Are you going to be distracted and useless now?"

"Probably." Vina shrugged.

Rissa sighed and turned to leave.

"But I won't just abandon you." Vina grinned and beckoned Byrn, who was performing a solitary drill in the next court. "I've a favor to ask," she told him before Rissa could open her mouth to protest. "I have a few matters to attend to elsewhere, but I don't wish to leave my sister without a sparring partner. Might you be willing to fill in for me?"

Byrn grinned and bowed. "I'd be glad to, if my lady squire so wishes."

Rissa glanced sharply at Vina, who winked back and trotted off, leaving Rissa with no choice but to square off against the handsome squire.

PDPD

Vina was halfway across the Riders' pasture when she spotted Karyna and burst into a sprint, heedless of the frozen mud underfoot. Fortunately, Karyna reached her just as she slipped on a patch of ice and tugged her upright before kissing her. Then they held each other by the elbows to survey one another.

"Hey."

"Welcome back."

"Thanks." Karyna dropped her head onto Vina's shoulder and sighed.

Vina lifted a hand to smooth back her hair. "Are you alright?"

Karyna lifted her head to nod. "Just tired." She shrugged. "In the way it always hits me as soon as I'm home." She took Vina's hand and tugged her gently towards the Rider barracks. "How's your sister?"

"Better." Vina smiled. "I think she might owe you one—for getting me out of the way."

PDPD

Byrn was good. He could predict Rissa's movements almost as well as Vina and he moved with surprising grace given his height and strength. He was also courteous, but like Vina, he didn't mind seasoning their sparring with light banter. He beat Rissa in their first two rounds, though she suspected he was holding back a little.

This suspicion was confirmed when she knocked him off his feet during their third round and he suddenly got more serious during their fourth, which he won after a long struggle. She won the fifth and the sixth. And he disarmed her during their seventh and final round.

"It's getting dark," he said, retrieving her sword for her. "We should probably both head in."

"Right," Rissa muttered, surprised by the reluctance in voice. "Thank you for joining me—I hope we've both benefited." She reached out to take her sword back and found that Byrn had taken hold of her hand instead.

"My pleasure." He smiled down at her and she was disarmed again, this time by his charming grey eyes.

"I hope I am not presuming too much," he murmured. Then he pressed a brief kiss to her lips. "Midwinter luck." He stepped back and held out her sword hilt-first.

Rissa froze and blinked, trying to dispel memories of the last time she'd kissed Gregory and wondering if she would spend her whole life trying not to remember. Then she darted forward on tiptoe and kissed his cheek.

"You too," she whispered, taking back her sword.

"See you tomorrow," he murmured. It was almost a question.

"Or the next day, if I can't slip away from my family until then." Rissa smiled at him over her shoulder as she left to see whether or not her parents had arrived yet.

PDPD

Instead of the usually rattling and banging of the smithy, Selena woke to the delightful scents of cinnamon and yeast on midwinter morning. This should have been enough to draw her out of bed, but the slight breeze drifting through Jeck's cracked window was an ice cold contrast to the warmth under their quilts. She winced when it hit her faced and rolled over to bury her nose under Jeck's chin.

"What do you think Jason's baking?"

"I know exactly what he's baking," Jeck murmured smugly, his words slightly muffled against her forehead.

"Will you tell me?"

Jeck draped an arm over her hip. "It just might be a rich buttery braid of bread, laced with cinnamon and currents—"he kissed her forehead—"and almonds."

"Perhaps we ought to get up," Selena muttered, frowning as she realized she'd left her slippers by the door and not the bed.

"Jason will call up when it's done baking," Jeck said confidently and allowed his eyes to drift shut again. Selena smiled and dozed off with him.

"Selena!" Jason's voice jolted her awake again. "Someone's just left a package at our door for you."

"Probably a midwinter gift," she mumbled, making no move to get up. "It can wait until after breakfast."

"Selena!" Jason called again. "It's alive!" This got her out from under the covers and into her dressing gown and slippers and down the stairs. "Or at least it's wriggling!" Jason amended, though this seemed to confirm his first theory.

Selena took the large blanket-covered basket from him and set it on the nearest bench, where it howled cheerfully.

"It came with a note." Jason passed a card to her and Selena froze when she recognized the handwriting.

"I'd start with the basket," Jeck advised, leaping the last stair. "Otherwise it'll open itself."

Selena nodded, grabbed a handful of the blanket and pulled it away to reveal a puppy. A large grey wolfhound pup, who clearly came from Lord Wyldon's stock and who immediately scrambled out of the basket.

Jeck grabbed the puppy before it could fall off the bench. Selena swallowed and lifted a hand to scratch behind the floppy ears.

"Wow," she murmured. "He must actually like you."

"She, actually," said Jeck as he lifted the puppy, who was now eagerly licking his face, for a brief inspection. "But yes, she seems to."

"I meant Wyldon," Selena muttered.

Jason blinked.

"He's trusting us with a dog." Selena opened the card and began reading.

_My Dear Lady Knight,_

_Please accept my wishes for a joyous midwinter and this small, but rapidly growing, we may hope, token of my esteem and affection. Her name is Shadow; she is Greyson's daughter and I fully expect her to live up to his height and hunting prowess. Do try not to spoil her too terribly with your admirable soft-heartedness. I trust that Jeck will feed, exercise, and otherwise care for her when you are called away by your duties to the crown. _

_Loving Regards,_

_Lord Wyldon_

_P.S. __I know you wouldn't take such a step lightly, but I do wish you'd seen fit to keep me apprised of your whereabouts_.

Selena bit her lip and passed the note to Jeck, gently extracting Shadow from his arms in exchange. Jason noticed the tears skimming down her cheeks and passed her a spare napkin before pulling his fragrant bread from the oven. Jeck wrapped an arm over her shoulder and scratched Shadow's ears as he read.

"He seems to have kept himself fairly well apprised," Jeck muttered.

Jason stepped over and glanced at the note. "Be glad he's seen fit leave you alive and intact." He poked Jeck in the ribs. "Maybe we should send a loaf in gratitude."

Selena shook her head. "The man has absolutely no sweet tooth." She hesitated a moment, brushing her nose against Shadow's fur. "We might do better to invite him to supper." She glanced nervously at Jeck.

"Go ahead." He squeezed her shoulder. "This is your home—you can invite whomever you like to supper." He looked pointedly at Jason, who nodded.

"Only fortify yourself with breakfast first. And then clear out of _my_ kitchen so I can cook something impressive."

PDPD

Penelope kissed Dalton, whose eyes didn't so much as flutter, and then crawled reluctantly out of bed to dress in heavy layers. She glanced back reluctantly, smiling as Bandit nestled into the space she'd left behind, and made her way to the practice courts, not because she felt she needed to practice but because she felt she needed to do something—anything, however futile—to prepare herself for the evening she was about to face.

Lord Wyldon was already there, slowly working away his morning stiffness. He nodded gruffly at her arrival and they started a slow joint exercise, their blades clacking loudly in the still air. It wasn't a duel. They were both too preoccupied to challenge one another.

"Your left sweep is still a hair weak," he observed finally. "This isn't like you."

"Sir?" Penelope murmured. Her left side had always been a touch week and they both knew it.

"You don't usually worry about the opinions of men like Lord Lanton."

Penelope nodded. "I'm more particularly concerned with his daughters' happiness." She studied his face a moment. "Or do you consider yourself a man like Lord Lanton?"

He chuckled very softly. "I'm not sure whether to be insulted by the association or flattered that you care for my opinion." Then he shook his head. "No, in fact I fear I am in grave danger of becoming an interfering old busybody."

Penelope studied his face again. "If you'll forgive my saying so, sir, you haven't the hair for it." She frowned again. "And you aren't very good at gossiping."

Wyldon blinked at her, but was kept from replying by the sudden appearance of Selena, who kissed his cheek and murmured "happy midwinter, sir" and then pulled him into a tight hug, burying her face on his shoulder.

Wyldon inhaled in sharp surprise and then tentatively lifted his arms to embrace his former squire, momentarily cupping the back of her head in one hand. "Happy midwinter to you too."

Penelope took a few steps back to give them some space. She'd had a few moments with Neal that she wouldn't have wanted just anyone overhearing.

"Did I miss something?"

Penelope turned around to find Alanna addressing Mindelan, both of them watching Wyldon with puzzled expressions.

"Just a little morning exercise with me," Penelope put in cheekily. "But I'll stick around and make it up to you."

"Probably not," Mindelan answered Alanna. "They're both silent, sensible types."

PDPD

Selena stepped back so she could face him. "Shadow's beautiful. Thanks. And I'm sorry I didn't tell—"

Wyldon cut her off. "Let's pretend you've already told me and neither of us was embarrassed by the conversation."

Selena smiled. "And they say you have no imagination."

"So they do—it's something of hidden weapon for me." He bent to pick up his sword. "Jeck will watch her while you're away? I hope I wasn't presuming too much."

"Of course not. We all love dogs." Selena hesitated a moment. "And we were wondering—I'm sure you've better things to do—but we—Jeck and I—and Jason, really, since he'll be cooking—if you'd like to dine with us this evening."

Wyldon drew his lips together. "You didn't tell me you were living with two men," he said, but his eyes twinkled as he spoke.

"Jason's just a friend," she assured him. "More like a tease of an older brother actually."

"I'd be honored to share a meal with the three of you." Wyldon smiled. "And perhaps this Jason fellow will finally teach you to spit properly."

PDPD

"Ready?" Dalton asked. Penelope certainly looked ready—and quite pretty, if rather fierce—in her navy blue and silver.

She frowned at herself in the mirror. "I'd rather revisit the Chamber of Ordeal."

He stepped up behind her and wrapped an arm around her waist. "Me too." He pressed his lips to her loosely braided hair. "I'm afraid it's currently booked and awaiting some poor terrified squire."

Penelope turned and took Dalton's hand as they started for the door. "Let's not be picky then—I'll settle for any hidden cabinet or undiscovered corner."

"It's midwinter." He pulled their door shut. "They're probably all occupied by illicit lovers."

"True." She sighed and cocked her head at him. "Remind me again why we married and disqualified ourselves."

"Gladly." He kissed her temple and ushered her down the corridor. "As soon as this over with."

"It shouldn't take too long," Penelope reasoned, "since we've already agreed not to mention Gregory, Karyna, or any near-fatal incidents. Or political opinions. There isn't much left to discuss."

"Unfortunately, my dear, the weather's been doing all kinds of strange things lately."

_So, the rest of their evening will be up in a few days. In the meantime, thanks for reading and reviewing and please accept my wishes for joyous—or just plain fluffy and festive—holidays!_


	13. More Midwinter

_Alright here's the rest of midwinter. Thanks so much to everyone who reviewed the last chapter! I'm terribly sorry about the delay in posting— but as my adopted fairy godmother says, "Christmas is a hostage situation"—I just couldn't get away from the giggly gifting and the passive aggressive dishwashing...Anyway, this chapter begins minutes after the last one and borrows characters and a setting from Tamora Pierce. Enjoy!_

Lady Lanton opened the door at Dalton's knock. She wished both of them a happy midwinter and stepped aside at Lord Lanton's cough. He glared at both of them and then shook Dalton's hand. He blinked at Penelope, as though unsure whether he ought to shake or kiss her hand; then he resolved his confusion by ignoring her entirely.

"And here are Levina and Larissa," he said, gesturing at his daughters and mixing them up.

Penelope could almost understand Lord Lanton's mistake. Vina and Rissa were dressed identically and they were both—for the first time in ages—radiant, a state which she doubted had anything to do with their parents' presence.

This suspicion was somewhat confirmed when the twins retreated to a pair of foot stools beside the fire and dropped into a whispered conference.

"There's just something," Rissa murmured, "about grey eyes—the way—"

"they seem like they must always be sad," Vina agreed, "so that when they smile—"

"It's like the sun breaking through clouds." Rissa sighed rather dreamily.

"A drink, lady knight?" Lady Lanton interrupted her eavesdropping with a glass of wine.

"Yes, please," Peneloped murmured, just a little too fervently.

Lady Lanton raised one sympathetic eyebrow and launched into a discussion—an analysis really, she was an expert at the art of inane conversation—of the light dusting of snow that had fallen that afternoon.

PDPD

Wyldon knocked sharply on the smithy door and frowned at the young man who opened it.

Jason—Wyldon assumed this must be Jason because he was wielding a spoon in one hand and appraising Wyldon with a somewhat Queenscovian gaze—held a finger to his lips for quiet and gestured for him to follow. He led him past the smiths' equipment and pointed over the table.

There on the floor, Wyldon saw Jeck slumped against the workbench, one arm wrapped over Selena's shoulders as they watched Shadow tussle with their outstretched boots.

Shadow spotted Wyldon and barked at him. Wyldon growled conversationally back. Jeck turned and started, hurrying to his feet to greet Wyldon. Selena laughed at all three of them and scrambled up to kiss Wyldon's cheek.

"I take it his bark's worse than his bite," Jason called, carrying a large roasted chicken to the table.

"Generations of pages debated that matter for years without coming to any solid conclusions," Selena informed Jason before introducing him properly.

"Give them a little inspiration," Wyldon explained, "and young people are fairly good at imagining potential horrible consequences for themselves." He glanced briefly at Selen and Jeck to illustrate his point and Jason had to clamp his lips together to maintain a straight face.

"Supper's ready," he announced, grinning, "even if it's not particularly fancy." He glanced uncertainly at Wyldon.

"You needn't stand on ceremony," Wyldon informed him. "I have no tolerance for fussy food and I shall infinitely prefer a simple, well-cooked meal to the sixteen-sauced menagerie undoubtedly being served up in the great hall."

"There were only fourteen sauces last year," Selena reminded him.

"You counted?" Jason asked.

Wyldon and Jeck simply shook their heads.

And, true to his word, Wyldon found he very much enjoyed the meal—chicken with buttery potatoes, carrots, and onions—very much indeed. And, after a few moments reflection—and a second tankard of ale—he decided that he didn't mind terribly when Jeck kissed Selena's neck on his way to fetch more bread or when Selena stretched her hand across the table to touch Jeck's wrist.

PDPD

"Supper's arrived," Lady Lanton announced, leading them towards the table, where servants were laying out food.

Lord Lanton eyed Penelope as they sat together at the table. "She looks sturdy enough for such an odd pretty thing, but I doubt she'll give you many children—certainly doesn't have the hips for it."

Vina mimed drawing her knife across her own throat. Rissa stabbed viciously with her fork. Penelope clenched her jaws together to keep from reacting.

"A good soldier like you ought to have a proper woman," Lord Lanton continued as he began carving the roast.

Lady Lanton offered Penelope an apologetic eye roll. Dalton nudged her foot under the table.

"To be sure," Lanton boomed, pouring himself another glass of wine, "a novelty like a sword hand is beguiling, but what a fellow really wants is—"

"A wise and passionate woman," Dalton interjected nimbly, "to be his companion through life." He took the wine bottle and began pouring for the entire table. "And, believe me, sir, there is no one with whom I would rather be seeing your children through their squire years. Which is why I would like to propose a toast to Vina and Rissa."

There wasn't any particular logic to this last statement, but Lord Lanton didn't seem to notice its absence.

They all, however, noticed the food on their plates. It was bad. The meat was so tough as to be inedible. The potatoes were charred to chewy crisps, which required a great deal of mastication before they could be safely swallowed. The carrots were overly spiced and had to be shuffled around the plate and hidden under (fortunately plentiful) bits of gristle.

Penelope did not spend long wishing for Bandit—this was the kind of culinary injustice that one didn't even subject a dog to—but she did wander how Lady Lanton's hired cook had managed to ruin everything at once.

"Had it done deliberately," Lady Lanton informed her in an undertone. "And it cost a sizable bribe. But I thought it best to keep everyone occupied."

The upside was that Lord Lanton was too busy chewing to offer any further opinions. The twins spent the meal passing one another sweets under the table. Dalton and Penelope spent it conversing with Lady Lanton as all three of them deposited napkinfuls of food under their chairs.

PDPD

"Merciful goddess," Dalton murmured once the Lantons' door had closed behind them.

"That went almost as slowly and painfully as I anticipated," Penelope muttered, beginning to march down the hall.

"Almost," Dalton echoed. "I thought you were an optimist."

Penelope shrugged. "I woke up early and had all day to worry. Although, I must admit, I wasn't expecting our digestive obstacles." Her empty stomach growled in agreement.

"Me neither. Or Lanton's embarrassing indifference to his own offspring." He sighed.

Penelope nodded. "Tonight almost made me glad I had no parents. I'm somewhat amazed Rissa and Vina have turned as well as they have given their…" She shook her head.

"I think we could have done a better job," Dalton muttered.

Penelope flushed and looked away, trying to ignore the suddenly pounding of her heart. "You could," she muttered.

"I didn't mean—"Dalton squeezed her elbow in reassurance.

"You could," she repeated. "But I'm all wrong. I'm not soft—I've worked hard not to be—I wasn't allowed to be—or kind enough. I'll never be good enough because I've gone in the opposite direction. And I certainly don't look like the sor—"

Dalton grabbed her shoulders and pulled her around to face him. "Don't, Pen. You're starting to sound like him."

"Really?" she snapped. "Then why does it feel so familiar?" She blinked out a few sudden tears and tried to scrub them away before he pulled her head to his chest.

"I don't know," he muttered. "Maybe it's one of those things you've heard so often that you've started thinking it yourself. Probably a long time ago, before you even met me."

Penelope agreed with a single silent sob. Dalton sighed into her hair. "I wish you wouldn't pick these ideas up. You're almost perfect without them.

"Sorry," Penelope muttered shakily and pulled away. "Thanks." She kissed his cheek and then escaped into the nearest available subject. "Bandit will need to go out."

"Good." Dalton took her hand, pulling her into a run. "Then let's relive our rebellious squire days and sneak some bread out of the kitchen."

PDPD

"This is better than I remember," Penelope murmured, changing into her nightgown as Dalton laid out the food.

"We do seem to have improved a few details." Dalton passed Penelope a mug of mulled cider. He gestured at the loaf of dark bread and the wedge of soft cheese on their table. "But the essentials remain and we've certainly earned them this evening." He cut a bit of rind off the cheese and tossed it for Bandit to snatch in midair.

"Mmm," Penelope agreed, savoring the warmth of rum and spices in her cider. "I think the only thing the girls picked up from their father is intractability." She cut herself a slice of bread, tossing the heel to Bandit, and slathered it with cheese. "But you might have been right earlier about doing a better—"

Dalton squeezed her fingers. "That was just idle speculation." He pulled away a napkin, revealing a plate of her favorite ginger cakes. "It didn't mean anything. Bandit could have done a better job."

Penelope nodded, smiling as she took a cake. "At least he can tell them apart by smell."

PDPD

Penelope felt that her midwinter holiday did not truly begin until two days after midwinter, when the Lantons departed. Then she was able to spend several mornings training with the Lioness and several afternoons watching George and Dalton play chess—an activity she found more entertaining than actually playing against either of them, especially when Neal dropped in to offer his commentary on the game.

PDPD

"Vina." Byrn tugged lightly at her sleeve to stop her from leaving the practice courts.

She turned and appraised him thoughtfully. He was sweating slightly from his fifth practice session with Rissa.

"If you can tell us apart," she said, "why are you stopping me?"

"I can't tell you apart perfectly," he muttered nervously. "I really hope you actually are Vina or this is going to be hugely embarrassing—you're both pretty in the same way, but Rissa looks back. And you don't. Not really. You are Vina, aren't you?"

Vina grinned. "Quite possibly." She shrugged eloquently but then nodded firmly before Byrn panicked.

"I thought you were on my side," he said.

"Only if she's happy," Vina informed him. "And she was happy after that kiss on midwinter's eve."

"How did you know—"

"We're twins. We talk." Vina gazed steadily at him. "But Rissa's had a rough year, you can't just—"

"I know. I'm not trying to rush her into anything. I just want to know what I'm doing wrong. She never seems entirely pleased to see me, but she seems happy enough while we're working together, and even disappointed when I leave." He sighed. "Maybe—"

Vina cut him off. "I'll try to find out for you."'

"You will?"

Vina nodded thoughtfully. "I like you—for her, I mean—I think you do make her happy. But if you—"

"If I break her heart," Byrn continued, "you'll be first in a long of people ready to administer painful consequences."

"Good." Vina reached over to squeeze Byrn's arm. "We understand one another perfectly. That bodes well for you."

PDPD

Penelope's holiday only ended when George and Alanna left and Mindelan restarted training for the pages. And by then she and Dalton—and the twins—were restless enough to resume their usual rigorous routine. When the pages were dismissed for their indoor lessons, she and Dalton lingered to work one on one with the twins, while Mindelan coached Kefira with her glaive. Neal and Dom were also there, holding Wilda and Peregrine.

"Will Byrn be here this afternoon?" Vina asked as she and Rissa paused to stretch.

Penelope glanced over at them.

Rissa forced a casual shrug.

Vina cocked her head.

"The real question," Rissa muttered. "Is will he remember I'm not breakable or will I have to remind him again? He's such a chivalrous amnesiac." She sighed. "You'd think I turned into glass overnight. He fights fair after the third round or so, but we have to start over again every day."

"Give him time," Dalton said. "It isn't easy to knock pretty girls off their feet."

Penelope lifted a hand to her face and snorted delicately into it. Dom and Neal nodded in agreement. Rissa raised a melodramatic eyebrow.

"Are the uglier ones less difficult to hit then?" Rissa asked.

"Watch where you point that implication," Vina told her sister. Dalton had overturned each of them multiple times that morning.

They both turned accusing eyes on Dalton.

"I imagine the uglier ones might be impossible to attack," Neal said. "One would pity them too much."

"Fortunately, there aren't any ugly women in Tortall," Dom added, but he couldn't muster quite enough sincerity to save himself a sharp nudge from his wife's elbow.

"And where, pray tell, does this leave the plain ones?" Kel demanded.

"Safe in the realm of indecision and ambiguity," Neal assured her.

Dalton rolled his eyes and turned back to the twins, who gave up all pretense of drilling and stood leaning on their staves to listen to him. "Men who've been immersed in chivalry from the cradle and instructed to treat all creatures with kindness, behave with dignity, and be gentle towards women and children, and—"

"Etcetera," Neal filled in.

Dalton rolled his eyes. "Anyway, a squire who's grown up with all that has to adjust a little when he first starts working with a girl—no matter how strong he knows she is—"he glanced at Penelope, whose lips twitched slightly—" even—especially—if he really respects her weapon-work." Dalton shrugged. "And chivalrous squires don't especially want to strike pretty girls any more than pretty squires want to strike handsome boys."

"He means except for the moments when you want to hit them for being obnoxiously noble," Penelope added, grinning at Dalton. Then she whispered in Rissa's ear. "And it's even more complicated for them when they want to kiss you."

Rissa blinked and blushed slightly.

"You make a little fight sound like an extraordinary trial," Vina told Dalton.

"Oh." Dalton shrugged and then sprang forwards to grab Vina's staff and then Rissa's, sending both girls toppling as they overbalanced. "I manage." He dropped both staves, letting them bounce on the twins' legs.

"That was your own fault," Kel informed them, though they knew better than to complain. Theoretically they had known better than to lean on their weapons.

Rissa did, however, glance expectantly at Penelope, as though hoping to see her spontaneously collapse.

Dalton nodded at Rissa and stepped towards Penelope, who dropped automatically into a fighting stance, though neither of them held a weapon.

"Two nobles on Dalton," Neal muttered.

Penelope spared a brief glare at her former knight master as he and Dom shook on the bet.

"He's on a winning streak this morning," Neal explained, though Penelope was too busy circling with Dalton to hear him.

Dalton gripped Penelope's arm softly. She barely registered the touch as he lunged forward to kiss her so sweetly that she felt her stance dissolving.

"That's cheating," she murmured, not bothering to pull her lips away from his as he reached an arm under her knees to scoop her off her feet.

"Shamelessly," he agreed, pressing another kiss to her cheek as he spun her in a victorious circle—

which he did not manage to complete before Penelope tickled mercilessly at his ribs and underarm, making him overbalance and drop her as he fell to the ground.

Dom and Neal frowned down at the pair of them and fingered their belt pouches reluctantly.

"I'm not sure which technicality this hangs on," Dom muttered, though he held out his hand to accept Neal's coins, which were not forthcoming.

"We'll call it a draw," Kel declared as they scrambled to their feet, "since both parties resorted to unscrupulous tactics. And neither of you—"she glanced at Neal and Dom—"ought to be placing bets this early in the afternoon."

"On the contrary, early evening—after the first round of ale—is when we shouldn't be placing bets," Neal argued.

"He has a point," Kefira—who had observed the entire thing in watchful silence—put in. "I usually win those."

Dom stepped behind his daughter and clapped a hand over her mouth.

Kel lifted a hand to her mouth to cover her own smile and let out a resigned sigh. "Let this be a lesson to all of you in the benefits of chivalry and sobriety."

"Duly noted," Vina and Rissa chorused.

PDPD

"I hear I'm not easy to knock over," Rissa told Byrn after he let her win their first bout. "You shouldn't let that stop you from really trying."

Byrn studied her face a moment before nodding, but he stopped protecting her during the next bout, which ended when both their swords went clattering across the stones.

Byrn reached their weapons first, scooping up both by their hilts.

He stopped Rissa's hand when she reached for her own blade. "Is this all you want from me?" He tilted his head to include the entire practice court.

"Not quite." Rissa twined her fingers through his for a moment before reaching for her sword again.

"Really?" He wrapped his free hand over her shoulder and pressed his lips slowly to hers.

Rissa smiled as they stepped apart and he kept his fingers on her shoulder.

"Good," he told her. "You aren't the least bit difficult to kiss."

_So, I hope that's satisfied everyone's winter fluff quotient for the time being. Many thanks to all my readers and reviewers. Happy New Year and here's a preview of next chapter:_

"Are you comfortable?" Penelope called over her shoulder.

Rissa tested the rope binding their wrists together. "No."

"Lovely. Me neither."

"Right." Rissa glanced over to where Vina and Dalton were tied. "So when are our guards coming and who wants to flirt with them?"


	14. Kidnapped

_Hello again. Many thanks to everyone who reviewed the last chapter and told me they were eagerly awaiting this next one. I hope it lives up to your entertainment expectations. This chapter takes place a few months after the last; it's springtime and Rissa and Vina are 16, Penelope is 20, and Dalton is 21. Setting and certain characters belong to Tamora Pierce. _

"What are we doing here?" Penelope asked quietly. She was wedged tightly between Dalton and Alanna at a small conference table where the king had called a mysterious late afternoon meeting for Raoul and Buri and the current leaders of the Own and the Riders, as well as several other well-respected knights and soldiers.

"The king told me we're going to be discussing a few matters regarding training," Mindelan informed them. "And I value your opinions."

Penelope swallowed.

"You should have waited until afterwards to tell them that," Alanna admonished. "Now they'll be hesitant to say anything for fear it won't sound brilliant."

"Don't listen to her," George added.

"And don't let it go to your heads," Wyldon told them.

"We wouldn't dream of it, sir," Selena assured him.

"The real question," Neal said, "is what am I here for?"

"To be the voice of sweet cynicism," Alanna informed him.

"They're here," Dom muttered, indicating the king and queen's arrival.

Nobody rose to greet the king or the queen, but everyone nodded and several minutes of small talk followed. Penelope, whose back was to the window, was just beginning to succumb to the spring sunshine pouring through it by dozing on Dalton's shoulder when the king called the meeting to order by clearing his throat.

"Last week, we very nearly lost three knights and two squires. They were kidnapped by raiders at the Tyran border and survived only because their home fiefs provided a substantial ransom."

"Was this an act of war?" Raoul asked.

The king shook his head. "The raiders acted without permission from their king. This was a harsh awakening. It reminded me that there are situations my soldiers aren't prepared for. We need to fix this. That's why I've called you here." He nodded at Kel.

"Sire? Are you ordering me to prepare pages for the possibility that they might someday be taken hostage? I'm not sure that would be the most effective use of our time."

"Agreed," said the queen. "At that age their focus should be on the basic fighting skills you teach so well. And on developing a sense of strategy."

"Then why—"

"Knights and squires were kidnapped," said the king. "It's knights and squires we're worried about now."

"You want me to train knights who've already passed through their Ordeals and proven themselves worthy to--"

"In short—yes we do." Thayet smiled grimly. "Along with Riders and the Own. We're proposing something rather monumental. We want you to help lead our efforts, not complete them single-handedly."

"Knights usually face their ordeals around 18. And, no offense to the younger knights present, but no one that age is entirely prepared for life as a knight."

"None taken," Dalton assured him. "I've learned a good deal in the past two years."

"As have I, for that matter," George put in.

"It's the best way to stay sharp," Dom agreed.

"Exactly," said the king. "We need to keep our soldiers learning throughout their lives so that they can be prepared to tackle new situations as they arise. Jousting tournaments are enjoyable, but they did nothing to prepare us for the Immortals War. We need you to create ongoing training exercises for knights and squires to deal with issues like kidnap as they arise."

"And how exactly do you plan to persuade everyone to participate to participate in these exercises?" Duke Gareth asked.

"Obviously we're still sorting out the details."

"What you're requesting is a radical divergence from the traditions of warfare," Wyldon murmured. "It might completely replace the tournament as we know it and it will undoubtedly offend a great a many people." He sighed and set his hands on the table. "It will also—if it works—save lives and improve Tortall's soldiers. It has my full endorsement."

Kel nodded. "I absolutely agree about the necessity of what you're proposing, but it's going to take months, if not years, of planning. And I'm not certain that I would be the best person to—"

"Perhaps not," Wyldon put in. "And you certainly have enough on your plate as it is. But you have proven yourself particularly adept at teaching old dogs new tricks." He gave the smallest possible ironic cough. "And I would argue that the most immediate problem seems to be determining the best way to teach knights for the possibility of being kidnapped. For that we have a number of candidates present."

Kel opened her mouth again and Neal covered it. "I thought I'd stop her from trying to disqualify her experience by arguing that she only knows how to rescue kidnapped refugee children."

"Hardly a valid point," Alanna added. "Since my first experience with kidnap consisted of waiting for an overly protective friend with possible ulterior motives to disobey royal orders and come rescue me."

"Ingrate," the king muttered.

"How come I never heard about this one?" Dalton asked.

"Maybe you never did anything sufficiently stupid enough to warrant my sharing it as an example," Alanna told him.

"Or you're just not as good at asking annoying questions," Neal added.

Wyldon cleared his throat. "Let us return to the matter at hand." He steepled his hands on the table. "First we need to understand exactly what we're training for. We need to get into the mindset of captives and captors."

"So," Dom said, "you're suggesting we simulate a kidnapping?"

Wyldon nodded. So did Raoul. "Of course—you could use a Rider group, with a few assorted knights and squires, to act as the raiders."

"And who would they kidnap?" Kel wondered aloud. "We'd want a couple knights and squires, preferably with some experience training others."

"A variety of fighting experience would be best," Wyldon continued, "so that they'd be able to draw comparisons."

"Young enough to shake off an uncomfortable night in the woods," Raoul added, "but responsible enough to assess the situation later."

"Someone who'd learned a few underhanded tactics from George might be ideal," Alanna said. "Or a knight accustomed to being outnumbered or outsized by her opponents."

"And then," Neal began, "you'd want them to be used to working together so that—"

"We're quite capable of taking hints," Dalton informed them.

"And volunteering for absurd quests when we can tell that we're about to be ordered into them anyway," Penelope added.

"We appreciate it," the king told them. "You can expect to be ambushed tomorrow afternoon. Set off into the Royal forest just after the second bell."

"Penelope will lead this one," Thayet put in. "Since Dalton led the last few. She'll be the one to determine when the exercise is over"—she looked at Penelope and mouthed _don't cheat—_"and bring everyone back afterwards."

"For now," Wyldon added, "you can be dismissed. It won't be much of an ambush if you hear all the details in advance."

"Eight years of training," Penelope murmured to Dalton as they set off down the hall, "to play a game of tag."

Dalton wrapped his arm through hers. "It still beats a wild goose chase."

PDPD

"Let me get this straight," Rissa said as they led their horses out of the stable. "We're wandering off into the woods in the hopes of being kidnapped."

"Precisely." Dalton swung himself into the saddle and nodded at Rissa.

"And we're going basically unarmed to keep things realistic," Vina muttered as they entered the woods.

"We're preparing for a worst case scenario," Penelope said, picking a trail at random. "Also it's a training exercise. We don't want to accidentally injure one of our own."

"We might," Rissa muttered. "Marcel could be leading the raiders."

"Think better thoughts, dear girl," Dalton instructed in a perfect imitation of Neal.

PDPD

Penelope had trouble clearing her mind to enjoy the ride. There was nothing like anticipating being taken unawares. The twins tied to keep up a stream of oblivious chatter, but they all kept starting at small sounds.

This made the sudden, magically amplified whistle at their backs all the more effective. It spooked all four horses—and their riders—driving them down the path towards a small clearing. There, they were neatly closed in by nets of woven branches—clearly Rider handiwork—and several black-masked archers holding bows at the ready.

"The masks are a nice touch," Dalton muttered. "They really add to the atmosphere."

Penelope nodded in agreement. She had expected to recognize their 'opponents' immediately. And also to be teased by them.

"Nobody move," a voice called. There was something familiar about it, but Penelope suspected it was deliberately (and magically) disguised given the way it bounced around without seeming to come from a particular figure.

"They are good at this game," Rissa observed.

"Silence," the voice continued. "We aren't here to play games. Dismount slowly and hold your hands up in the air."

Four masked figures came forward to lead their horses away. Then they were all superficially searched for weapons (three knives were confiscated from Rissa, two each from Penelope and Vina, and one from Dalton) without a moment's recognition. Or even a single comment, for that matter. This was unnerving enough to leave Penelope a little paranoid.

Next, Penelope and Rissa were arranged back to back, forced to sit, and tied together at the wrists. Dalton and Vina faced the same arrangement. And, though all the black-masks looked relaxed, no one laughed or spoke.

"Any guesses who they are?" Vina muttered as their captors began disappearing.

One archer pulled off her mask and grinned down at them. Penelope felt her shoulders go limp in relief.

"We are very convincing," Selena said. "We're leaving you here for the moment. Don't try anything. We'll be back soon."

PDPD

"Are you comfortable?" Penelope called over her shoulder after an hour—or perhaps less, it felt longer—of silent waiting.

Rissa tested the rope binding their four wrists together. "No."

"Lovely. Me neither."

"Right." Rissa glanced over to where Vina and Dalton were tied. "So when are our guards coming and who wants to flirt with them?"

"Will they bring us water, do you think?" Vina wondered.

"I hope not," Penelope said. "I don't want to think about liquids under the circumstances." She'd downed a half flask of water an hour before their capture and her bladder was making its presence felt.

"Good point," Rissa muttered. "Maybe they'll give us a little space to erm—"

"Certainly," Selena said, emerging into their clearing. "There's no need to make the experience that authentically uncomfortable."

"I'll let you ladies handle that infraction," Bryn said, appearing behind her.

"What are you doing here?" Rissa demanded.

"Escorting Dalton to the necessary apparently," Byrn muttered. "We're the assorted squire and knight—

"and Rider group assigned to hold you hostage," Karyna put in as she appeared with a large basket. "We brought dinner because who doesn't love awkward meals?"

"I didn't know you were back," Vina murmured, struggling (with Daltons's cooperation) to her feet.

Karyna shrugged, smiling. "I couldn't stay away. Got back just in time for this exercise." She undid the binding on Dalton and Vina, pulling the latter close to kiss her.

"Oh," Byrn muttered. "That—please tell me that's Vina."

"Last time I checked," Vina muttered, laughing and burying her face against Karyna's neck.

"Right." Byrn shrugged and bent to untie Rissa. "Well. That explains why she doesn't look back."

"I hope you aren't offended." Vina turned towards Byrn but kept her hand on Karyna's arm.

Byrn shrugged again. "It simplifies my life wonderfully. Only one twin to try courting." He glanced at Karyna. "Just promise you'll tell me if they try switching on us."

Selena, who was already leading Penelope towards a discrete clump of bushes, snorted. "Yes, do watch them carefully."

PDPD

They sat down to dinner once they'd each had a chance to relieve themselves behind the bushes and freshen up in the nearby creek. They were even allowed to leave their hands free for eating.

"You'd probably actually be left dirty, hungry, and tied up," Selena reminded them. "But I'm not a hardened criminal."

The food was simple bread and cheese, but Dalton was too hungry to care. And he certainly didn't expect to be given anything that required a knife to eat.

"Where's everyone else?" he asked, mostly for the sake of making conversation.

"The cookfire's that way." Karyna pointed and they could just make out a fire in the distance. "We're keeping you 'isolated' and preventing you from 'determining the exact composition of the hostage-taking group'".

"But we thought you'd like some food and company," Byrn added.

"And clearly you had very specific company in mind," Penelope muttered. Then she shot Byrn a puzzled frown. "Who's your knight master again?"

"Lord Brandon."

"Didn't Queenscove say he might never recover the ability to walk? How he'd make it out for this?"

"Wyldon convinced Lord Brandon to let me borrow his squire for the occasion," Selena explained, "so that he could see the outside of the palace walls again before his squire years are over."

"Good for you," Dalton muttered. "Sometimes I wish we'd gotten a trial run."

"Not that it would have changed anything," Vina added, smugly popping the last of her food into her mouth.

"Selena!" a voice called.

"Right," Selena said. "I'm afraid we'll have to tie you up again. We'll have a single guard in shifts through the night. See what you can do with that."

Vina and Rissa sighed, turning their backs and wrists towards one another. Byrn knelt to tie them together.

"No," Karyna said. "Don't tie those two together—they'll do some sort of twin magic on us."

"I don't want to put Penelope and Dalton together either," Selena muttered. "They're almost as bad."

"And how do our unknown captors know this?" Dalton demanded as Byrn started tying him to Rissa.

"Perhaps we've been watching you for weeks." Byrn pressed a kiss to Rissa's temple and she tilted her face to catch his lips. Dalton managed not to raise an eyebrow even though this took place only inches from his head.

"And why, exactly, aren't we struggling violently at being tied up again?" Vina wondered.

"You were never untied in the first place," Selena reminded them. She tested both knots and then gestured for the two pairs to scoot further apart. "Karyna, you take the first watch. Come back an hour or so after dark and get Luke to take over."

Karyna nodded and took up a position leaning against a convenient oak tree. The five of them watched the sun set in silence. Karyna glanced away for several long stretches and pretended not to notice that they were scooting towards one another.

"Are you cold?" she asked finally. "Do you want me to send Luke with blankets?"

"We're mostly stiff," Penelope replied, shifting her shoulders, "Any chance we can persuade you to loosen these knots?"

She shook her head and bent to confiscate the sharpish stick Penelope had caught between her boots. "Good night." She knelt and kissed Vina—delicately, in deference to Penelope's presence—before pulling away the jagged rock she'd hidden beneath her knee. "Sleep tight." She tucked a stray bit of hair behind Vina's ear and sauntered away.

"And you thought I was the one attracted to devious characters," Rissa remarked.

Dalton chuckled, mostly in relief that Rissa could finally say such a thing in a lighthearted tone.

PDPD

"Dalton," Penelope muttered once Karyna was out of earshot. "Do you still keep that old knife from George in your left boot?"

"Yes, but I'm not thrilled about the idea of using it. Wouldn't that kind of cheating defeat the point of the exercise."

"And how is that relevant after the other kinds of cheating we've enjoyed all evening?" Penelope asked.

"We might as well defeat the point of the exercise," Rissa added.

"Since we don't seem to be capable of fighting anything else at the moment," Vina put in. "And since the ultimate goal is escape—"

"and there weren't any rules to begin with…" Rissa continued.

Dalton sighed and bent his knee so that Rissa could reach his laces. It wasn't a comfortable position—his foot was already asleep—but it was relatively discrete and if he and Rissa could get his knife that would leave Penelope and Vina free to distract Luke.

PDPD

"Comfortable?" Luke asked, settling himself against the same tree Karyna had used.

Dalton nodded. "Just stretching."

Luke shrugged and took a sip of tea from the mug he'd brought with him.

Rissa sighed to let the others know that she'd reached Dalton's knife.

Penelope waited a few more minutes for Luke to grow complacent and then nudged Vina. "Ready?"

"I'll lead," Vina whispered back. "I've got longer legs. On three?"

After a silent count they braced against one another and scrambled to their feet. Then Vina took off running away from Luke, pulling Penelope along behind her.

"Hey!" he called and started after them. Dalton stuck out a leg to trip him.

Luke scowled and clambered to his feet, shouting for Selena. Dalton tried to kick him as he followed Vina.

"Hold still," Rissa hissed, already sawing frantically at the binding on their hands. She'd freed him a moment later and he spun around to do the same for her. By this time, Selena and a few of the Riders were approaching their clearing.

"I'll go free Vina and Pen," Dalton whispered as they took off running. "You loop around and see what you can do about grabbing our horses."

Rissa nodded and let out a bloodcurdling shriek.

"What was that for?"

She shrugged. "Just keeping them on their toes."

_So, the next chapter will chronicle the rest of this particular exploit and I'll try to have it up within a week. In the meantime, many thanks to all my readers and reviewers! _


	15. Break Away

_Many thanks to everyone who reviewed the last chapter—I hope this next installment lives up to your expectations…It begins minutes after the last one ended and contains characters and real estate created by Tamora Pierce. _

"Have we lost him?" Vina asked, searching the darkness for a sign of Luke as she and Penelope clambered to their feet after their latest fall.

"I think so," Penelope answered. "Are you hurt?"

"Not—"Vina began. Then a branch snapped close by and they both tried to take off running in opposite directions. They'd just sorted themselves out when a hand closed around Penelope's forearm, stopping both of them.

PDPD

Rissa made a large, careful loop around the camp, darting from tree to tree to stay out of sight until she reached the place where Selena and the Riders had hobbled the horses. She hastily saddled and unhobbled first Penelope's horse, then Dalton's, then Vina's, and, lastly, her own.

She was just unbuckling the hobble on her mount's forelegs when a hand settled suddenly on the back of her neck. She dropped the hobble and fell forward onto her knees.

PDPD

"Hello Dalton," Penelope whispered, recognizing him immediately.

He kissed her briefly and then started sawing through the ropes binding their wrists together. "Have you girls been enjoying yourselves?"

"Sure," Vina muttered. "Aside from dragging her around. Perhaps we should do this more often."

"If our squires enjoy this so much—"Penelope stretched her arms—"we should trying selling them to traveling peddlers and—"

Dalton held a finger to his lips and they all recognized the sounds of several booted feet approaching.

"Split up," Penelope whispered.

Dalton nodded. "Make for the creek. Rissa's freeing horses."

PDPD

"Hello Rissa," Byrn said.

"How'd you recognize me?" Rissa muttered.

"You unhobbled your own horse last." Byrn put a hand under her arm and tugged her gently to her feet. "Come on. I'd better take you back to camp."

Rissa nodded and pretended to yawn. Then she twisted sharply out of his group to slap the unhobbled horses' rumps. She figured that she might as well cause a little chaos even if she couldn't get away. And she was lucky enough that the horses were running towards where she thought Penelope and Vina might be.

Rissa sprinted after the horses but Byrn tackled her to the ground before she'd made it more than five steps.

"Sorry," she muttered, attempting to squirm out of his grip. He had (and she wasn't entirely sure she appreciated it at the moment) long since come to the conclusion that she was, in fact, not made of glass.

"It was a good trick," he panted, hooking a knee over her leg to keep her from rolling away.

Rissa gasped. Byrn realized just how ungentlemanly this posture seemed and pulled away.

"Beg pardon," he said.

"Granted." Rissa laughed, flipping him over, and scrambling away.

He grabbed her ankle, tripping her, and then seized a handful of her tunic to keep her from getting up.

"Hey," she murmured. "Let's not waste this exercise. It's a perfectly good excuse for a moonlit stroll."

"So it is." Byrn took her hand so that they could help one another up. He wrapped his arm firmly around her shoulders once they were standing.

Rissa looked sideways, studying his face to remind herself that it wasn't Gregory's.

"I can take your hand if you'd prefer," he said. "But I don't trust you loose."

"I wouldn't trust me either," she muttered. "This is fine," she added, wrapping her arm around his waist and setting her head against his arm as they walked. He was a warm buffer against the cool night air.

"Good. I can't always tell with you. You can be so closed-off."

"Sorry," she whispered. "I wasn't always like this—Vina's probably told you about—"

He nodded quickly.

"Anyway, I—sometimes I think it isn't right to care for anyone when I might die and disappear any day. Or you might. It hurts too much to loose people." She was dimly away of the tears gliding down her cheeks but couldn't bring herself to stop them. "And we're all so fragile. We can flicker out so easily."

Byrn turned so he could wrap his other arm around her and set his forehead against hers.

"You're too beautiful to be so morbid," he murmured. "You can't dwell on this kind of thing." He brushed his nose against hers. "And, call me arrogant, but I'd like to think I'm worth the risk."

Rissa smiled as he kissed her.

PDPD

Dalton was nearly trampled by his own horse when they met in the dark.

"Easy," he murmured, grabbing the gelding's reins and looking around for the others. Approaching shouts warned him that their captors were getting closer. Vina was grabbing her own mount nearby, but Penelope and her horse were nowhere in sight.

"Just go for two out of four!"

Dalton looked up and realized that Penelope was hiding in the branches overhead. "Luke grabbed my horse already," she hissed, pointing for him to cross the creek.

Dalton shook his head and gestured for her to come join him.

She shook her head.

"But I'd never actually leave you in their hands," Dalton protested.

"I'm not technically in their hands at the moment," Penelope pointed out. Then several riders spotted Dalton, yelled triumphantly, and began sprinting towards him.

Dalton shrugged, flung himself into the saddle, and urged his mount to wade across the creek, closely followed by Vina.

Meanwhile, two Riders decided that they had Penelope surrounded in the tree and plopped down on the ground to wait for her to climb down. The others tested the water and decided it was cold and deep enough that they'd need ponies if they were going to keep pursuing Dalton and Vina.

PDPD

Byrn's hands drifted off Rissa's shoulders to frame her face as they kissed. Once she'd set her hands on his chest, it took all her willpower to push him away. They both gasped for breath and she sprang away.

"Sorry," she called over her shoulder as she started sprinting along the creek.

"You do send a fellow mixed signals," he muttered, starting after her.

"I promise to come back and clarify later," she hissed, doubling her pace as she spotted a small rickety footbridge. She'd completely given up the idea of retrieving her horse.

"I'm looking forward to that."

"Good. Because—"But, unfortunately Rissa never got a chance to finish. She came face to face with Selena and Karyna just as she reached the bridge.

She darted between them and onto the slippery wooden boards, running desperately to stay out of their reach. They were all midway across the bridge when the rotting planks gave way beneath their weight.

All three of them fell into the cold water. Byrn, who'd been just behind Selena scrambled back to the bank, marveling at the assortment of curses that emerged simultaneously from all three mouths as they surfaced. Then he waded out to see if they needed help, hissing a few choice epithets of his own when the icy water seeped into his boots.

PDPD

"Enough!" Penelope called as soon as she saw the accident. "Truce! Stalemate! We'll assume they went riding off to collect a rescue force but you still have two hostages. I'm coming down to negotiate." Then she gave three loud owl hoots to summon Dalton and started climbing down the tree.

PDPD

Vina reached Penelope just as Luke was returning her horse.

"Are they—"she glanced towards where Byrn was helping Rissa up the creek bank.

"They'll be fine. It's not that cold," Penelope said, watching Dalton cross the creek. "And by fine," she amended, drawing on her on many experiences, "I mean cold, exhausted, and miserable for the night." She gestured for Vina to dismount and started towards Selena.

Vina pulled a few blankets from her saddleback and took them to Rissa and Karyna, who both grinned wickedly and hugged her in thanks, leaving Vina nearly as wet as they were. Byrn's flask of brandy was equally well received.

"You're still dry," Dalton marveled, rubbing Penelope's shoulders as soon as he arrived. "I didn't know you were capable of avoiding an unexpected plunge in cold water if the opportunity for it arose."

"I'd claim to have outgrown it," Penelope replied, "but I'm afraid there might be individuals present who are immature enough to prove me wrong by throwing me in."

"I'd never deprive Queenscove of such a proud moment," Dalton assured her. Then he beckoned Selena and wrapped her in his cloak. He decided Penelope had left him with an incurable tendency to worry about wet people.

"So," Selena muttered, "how do we decide who won."

" We'll leave that to Wyldon, who probably won't care so long as we give him a detailed write-up on the fine art of being kidnapped. For now, I just want to get everyone home," Penelope muttered, scanning the chaos around them. "It would help if we could actually see what we're doing."

Karyna drew a deep breath, gathered a handful of pale blue Gift, and tossed it into the air where it hovered like a low moon to illuminate the area around them. Penelope wondered if she'd been the one responsible for the sound illusions earlier in the afternoon.

"Showoff," Byrn muttered.

Karyna smirked. "And I suppose you can do something genuinely useful—like drying us off or getting us warmed up." She rested her cheek on Vina's shoulder and watched him expectantly.

"As a matter of fact—"Byrn gestured at a driftwood log and it caught in a slow-burning, heat generating fire—"this shouldn't take too long." He grinned at Rissa and pulled her close against his chest, wrapping his cloak around both of them. "Though this way might be even faster," he added, kissing her temple.

PDPD

Jeck and Jason were playing dice at the table when Selena returned to the smithy. Shadow, who lay sprawled across their feet, thumped her tail in greeting.

"Back so soon?" Jeck asked, coming to hug her.

Selena sighed, half-laughing, and dropped her forehead to his chest. He ran a puzzled hand over her wet hair.

"Goodness, they must have gotten away fast," Jason muttered.

Selena shrugged and moved to set water warming for a bath. "The game got old fast. Then a few of us went swimming for a change in routine."

"Funny," Jason muttered. "You make that sound like a voluntary decision."

"And she found it so refreshing she wants to wash again," Jeck added.

Selena scowled at both of them. "They didn't really get far. They only got away. And we would have kept two of them if the bridge hadn't broken."

Jeck chuckled sympathetically and kissed her hair. "We'd be worried if you'd actually been good at it."

"The only one who had a really successful evening was Rissa's horse. It took us a couple of hours to track her down. Of course, she had help…"

PDPD

"This will be just delightful," Byrn muttered darkly as the participants of the kidnapping experiment filed into a council room for a very early morning meeting.

"Don't offer Wyldon that kind of cheek," Selena told him. "He'll feed it back to you for breakfast."

"Good." Byrn shrugged and took a seat beside Rissa. "I'm hungry."

Wyldon arrived a moment later, followed by several trays laden with fruit juice, meat turnovers, and sweet pastries. Penelope suspected that these had been the queen's idea, though neither monarch had arrived for the start of this particular meeting.

"So," Wyldon said, without bothering to serve himself breakfast. "What have you learned?"

"Throughout our lives, my lord?" Byrn asked, blinking innocently. "Or during the previous evening?"

"Both lists would be dismally brief," Wyldon answered. "But for our purposes this morning, I'm willing to assume you can read and manage cutlery. What did you learn last night?"

"Well, for starters, sir, how to distinguish between Rissa and Vina."

Vina, who was seated between Penelope and Dalton, stiffened and blushed faintly.

"Clothed or unclothed?" Luke asked and a handful of Riders burst out laughing, mostly at the expression upon Wyldon's face.

Byrn flinched at the lewder implications of his statement. Luke also flinched, though Penelope suspected this was because Karyna had kicked him sharply under the table.

"Kindly do not enlighten us," Wyldon instructed, but Byrn had already turned to Luke.

"As any gentleman would, good fellow, by their boot prints."

Rissa smirked and Penelope found herself wondering how often the twins borrowed one another's boots.

"Lady knight Selena," Wyldon said, his voice near to snapping with exasperation. "What did you learn from the experiment?"

Selena meant to give a serious answer, but found that she couldn't quite pull it from her lips. "Squires don't listen well to warnings, sir," she said. "And you haven't lost your touch." And then, because she feared that he could only be pushed so far, she added, "also, tying people together doesn't stop them from running."

"But it does slow them down," Vina put in.

"And leave them more prone to tripping and stumbling even after they've been freed," Dalton added.

"Because it leaves one stiff," Penelope explained. "And having one's hands tied behind one's back for a prolonged period leaves them numb—and less capable of riding or fighting.

"Knives are useful," Rissa added.

"But only if they're really well hidden," Vina qualified.

"Hidden knives," George said, appearing in the doorway. "I seem to have arrived just in time for my own specialty," he added as his wife and the king and queen followed him into the room.

"How very fortuitous," Wyldon murmured.

"Indeed," George agreed as a small deadly blade appeared in his hand, apparently out of nowhere.

"Thieves' daggers are small and light enough to hide, but sturdy enough to hold up over time. But you can't just have all your knights troop into the city to buy them."

"Certainly not without making a few arrests," the king muttered, taking his seat and reaching for a pastry.

"And we might want a slightly wider blade," Selena added, examining the knife that George had pulled out for display.

Wyldon sighed and pressed a hand to his temple. "Selena please go find your—see if Jeck the smith would be amenable to consulting with us."

"Certainly, sir." Selena stood and departed.

"She isn't your squire any longer," the kind admonished. "You can't keep asking her to run your errands."

"And you," Thayet hissed, "cannot keep discounting palace gossip entirely just because it once mistreated you."

"Oh," Jon muttered. "I hadn't realized the rumors about Selena and the smith were accurate."

Penelope covered her mouth with one hand and found herself meeting Wyldon's eyes in a gaze of mutual sympathetic embarrassed amusement.

PDPD

Selena proved the rumors (or at least some of them) true soon enough when she returned arm-in-arm with Jeck. He walked immediately to the corner where George and Dalton were examining a their daggers, hefted a blade in his left hand, and began drawing on a scrap of parchment with his right. All three of them muttered excitedly to one another.

"Don't worry," Alanna told Selena. "I'll make sure they separate by suppertime."

"In the meantime," Wyldon said, passing Penelope a sheaf of parchment. "You'll want to record your insights. I suspect you'll find them useful when you address the gathering of older knights this summer."

_There we are—it's not really a cliffhanger because the threat is technically months away. The next chapter will be up in a week or so—and here's our preview: _

"How am I your remarkable wife?" Penelope muttered as they stepped forward after Duke Gareth's introduction. "I don't even mend your socks for you."

"I think he was referring to your ability to kill monsters," Dalton whispered back.

"Almost everyone here can do that." Penelope shrugged. "Maybe next they'll introduce you as my delightful husband."


	16. Remember

_Many thanks to everyone who reviewed the last chapter. This episode takes place a few months after the last. It's now summer, which means Penelope and Dalton are about to help run a training exercise for a contingent of older knights… As always, the setting and certain characters come courtesy of Tamora Pierce. _

Rissa walked through her knight masters' open door and found them propped on their elbows in bed, both frowning at a stack of papers.

"I have a message from Wyldon," she said.

Neither of them looked up.

Rissa sighed impatiently. "I'm thinking of quitting and becoming a priestess of the Goddess. Vina's pregnant. And Wyldon wants to cancel the pages' drills tomorrow morning so they can watch the mock war with the knights and squires."

They both lifted their heads and blinked at her with dazed expressions. Dalton silently mouthed all three sentences, mulling them over.

"Also, I think Bandit wants to go out," Rissa added as the dog picked up his bone and trotted out the door. "Have I got your attention now?"

Dalton nodded. "You could have switched with Vina for the first two and we might actually have swallowed that last one."

"It was true," Rissa informed him. "He wanted me to tell you not to worry too much about your speech. Just keep it short because 'no one wants to absorb obsequious political gibberish on an empty stomach'. Not that he expects you to produce said gibberish."

"So why exactly was Vina in the infirmary earlier?" Penelope asked.

"Cracked ribs," Vina muttered from the doorway, where she held up three fingers to indicate the number of ribs cracked.

"And a concussion," Karyna added, gently ushering Vina in and helping her sit on the rug beside the bed. "The Wildmage is having a little chat with her horse—he apparently wanted to prove she can't fly."

"Someone should talk to the wall too," Vina said, "it's really to blame for being in the way when I fell."

"She's always a little groggy after a big healing," Rissa observed.

"Am not," Vina murmured, even as her head settled against Karyna's shoulder and her eyelids drifted shut.

"She has a point," Karyna said as Rissa flopped down beside them. " 'A little' doesn't quite cover falling asleep before supper."

"Let her rest," Dalton added, when he saw Rissa reaching over to poke her sister. "Tomorrow's going to be a long day even without the pages' drills."

Rissa's sigh turned to a smile when Bandit returned with Byrn in tow. "When did you train him to fetch boys?" she asked Penelope.

"Around the same time you girls decided to make our room into your salon," Penelope muttered.

"And here I thought I was just bringing him back to you." Byrn nodded politely at Penelope and Dalton and knelt beside Rissa to kiss her.

Bandit leapt onto the bed, scattering Penelope and Dalton's notes and plans.

"He's right," Dalton muttered. "The whole point is to practice improvising."

"So there's no plan for tomorrow?" Byrn asked.

"Sure there is," Penelope. "We join the pages and the visiting knights to fight a mock battle against a group of the Own. And possibly the Riders."

"No." Karyna sighed. "Someone entirely too practical realized the kind of chaos that would come of us working with the Own. But then the queen complained that she could only spend so long designing dresses, so we get our own match against them this fall."

"Tobe will love that," Dalton muttered.

"Especially if he gets to lead the Riders," Vina muttered, pulling her eyes open and proving that she hadn't fallen entirely asleep.

"So." Rissa twined her fingers through Byrn's. "Are you here to take me to supper?"

Byrn kissed her fingers and pulled her to her feet. "I meant to ask you first."

"Be faster next time. I've been hungry for ages."

"No need." Byrn shot her a cocky grin. "I don't seem to be disrupting any prior plans."

Penelope nudged Dalton. "Do you still need that kind of hint?"

Dalton's stomach growled loudly. "Apparently not," he muttered, rolling off the bed and pulling on his boots.

"Come with me?" Vina asked as Karyna helped her to her feet.

Karyna shook her head sadly. "We've been seen together too much lately. People are starting to talk. You don't want that." She kissed Vina's cheek and nudged her onto Rissa's arm. "Goodnight, groggy." Then she nodded Byrn, waved to Penelope and Dalton, and slipped out the door.

Penelope swallowed and took a sympathetic step towards Vina, but Byrn beat her there, smiling at Rissa as he wrapped an arm around Vina's other side for the walk to the dining hall.

PDPD

Vina hurried ahead of Rissa and Byrn as soon as they reached the squires' wing. She was desperately tired and determined to give them some time to themselves.

"I'm glad we'll be on the same team tomorrow," Byrn remarked, deliberately slowing their pace. He brushed his nose over her cheek and kissed the corner of her mouth. "I think it will be even more fun than last time."

"You aren't worried it might be too distracting?" Rissa asked. And then she immediately regretted it. Because she'd learned the hard way that she was distracting enough to get people killed. And, though she'd sworn she wouldn't notice—because it wouldn't be fair to Byrn—she knew that the next day would mark exactly one full year from Gregory's death.

Byrn seemed to sense this too, because he wrapped his arm more firmly about her waist. "A little distraction is never a bad thing," he said lightly. "We wouldn't want to make it too easy for ourselves."

"Of course not," Rissa agreed, trying unsuccessful to make her tone match his. She grimaced when she realized they'd reached her door.

"Rissa," he said, pulling his arm off her waist.

She blinked miserably at him.

"I hate to see you this unhappy. But part of me is selfishly glad you've mostly moved on." They both sighed. "Anyway," he continued. "I don't know what to say, so I'm just going to—"He kissed her and slowly wrapped her in a warm hug. "You should get some rest," he added finally.

"Goodnight," Rissa murmured, but kept her face buried against Byrn's tunic for a long while before she turned towards her own door.

PDPD

"Alright," Vina muttered. She was already in her nightgown, sitting slumped against her pillows. "What's wrong?"

Rissa hesitated, slowly untying her bootlaces before answering. "I don't deserve him. He's sweet and funny and he really cares—even about taking care of you this afternoon."

"I know," Vina said. "He's really thoughtful, but that doesn't—"

"I'm not." Rissa kicked off her boots and shrugged out of her tunic. "I don't deserve him."

"Rissa, it doesn't work that way. You can't deserve or not deserve someone anymore than you can own them. You just trust him or love her. And be grateful for what you have."

"It's not—he's been dead for a year. You've been with Karyna longer than that."

"I'm sorry," Vina whispered. She knew better than to point out that Rissa had switched from discussing Byrn to mourning Gregory.

Rissa winced. "It's just that—sometimes with Byrn—I feel like I'm being unfaithful to his memory."

"Rissa, that's absurd. You had no problem looking at other men while he was alive."

"That was before he died," Rissa snapped. Then she pinched her lips together to hold back a hysterical laugh.

Vina allowed herself to smile wryly. "He'd have wanted you to move on and be happy with someone else."

"I know," Rissa muttered, slipping into her nightgown. "He'd have done so himself. But I feel guilty for thinking about Gregory when I should be focused on Byrn."

"You can't have your self-doubt both ways."

"How would you know?" Rissa unbraided her hair and began running a brush through it.

Vina smirked. "I'm the twin who managed to fall for someone so "unsuitable" she has to hide her relationship from the majority of court. I've battled my fair share of ambivalence."

"But Karyna's perfect for you."

Vina suppressed a chuckle. "I'm glad you think so. Certain people object to the fact that she's female. But we aren't talking about me right now. We're talking about you and the good-looking-grey-eyed brunette in your life." She smiled and stretched her arms, before slipping under her blankets. "So listen. Pick one fault to hate yourself for and then steadfastly disregard it. I'd recommend deciding not to feel guilty about the time you spend with Byrn."

"I don't deserve you either," Rissa murmured, tucking her sister in.

"Too bad, you're stuck with me." Vina turned on her side so she could face Rissa's bed and curled into a ball.

"That sounds like the kind of thing I'd say."

"Well," Vina muttered, letting her eyes drift shut. "I did hit my head pretty hard."

PDPD

Selena had just started scouring Jason's frying pan after breakfast when someone knocked on the smithy door and called her name uncertainly.

"Come in," she answered.

Owen pushed open the door and knelt just in time to be examined by Shadow, who bounded up to lick his face.

"You're from Cavall, aren't you?" he murmured affectionately, scratching the hound just above her tail. Then he blinked at Selena, taking in her rolled-up sleeves and the slippers on her feet. "Oh. So he really meant to imply that you live here when he told me I should stop by and see about getting a new sword made."

"Any particular design you have in mind?" Jeck asked, pausing to kiss Selena's cheek on his way towards Owen.

"This is Jeck." Selena wrapped her fingers over Jeck's arm. "He'll craft whatever blade you need. And Wyldon knows we live together—he figured it out himself."

"And then he sent me a dog to feed," Jason called as he shoveled coals onto the forge's fire.

"Right. Jolly." Owen offered Jeck his hand. "He hasn't lost his mind then."

Selena smiled. "Just his rigidly archaic worldview." She hugged Owen briefly before turning back to Jeck. "Owen was Wyldon's first squire."

"That can't have been easy."

"You should try being his son-in-law," Owen muttered.

Jeck winced. Jason pounded his back.

"Actually, courting his daughter was worse. It's better now that we've married."

Selena raised an eyebrow and Jeck smiled wryly back at her.

"What can we do for you, Owen?" Jason asked.

PDPD

Around midmorning, Rissa (who was leaning comfortably against Byrn) and Vina (who appeared to be fully recovered) joined Penelope to survey the large crowd that had gathered in the courtyard. Many of the knights, though they seemed slightly intimidated by Wyldon, hurried over to hug Mindelan.

"Who are those men with Kel?" Dalton asked. "And do they know that all her children can toddle around on their own?" All of them—Kefira included—were shrieking delightedly as they were lifted, spun around, and kissed.

"Old friends," Neal answered, waving. "Possibly not. Kel and I beat them at the procreating game."

"You haven't beat anyone at anything," Penelope muttered. "You had a five year head start."

"Not very sporting, was it?" Owen said as he and Selena arrived. He and Neal then proceeded to introduce a large crowd of old acquaintances.

Neal described Penelope as 'the intrepid young swordswoman responsible for the discrete traces of silver at my temples' and his friends exchanged knowing eye rolls and clapped her on the back.

The gathering was marred only by a scowling Bazhir who stepped over to glare at Penelope and the twins. "And you are here to teach us to fight with women?" he asked.

"By 'with'," Rissa said, "do you mean alongside?"

"Or against?" Vina added.

"We can do either," Penelope explained, "but the second's a bit more difficult to master."

"Especially if you're overly attached to winning," Selena put in.

The man's scowl deepened and he raised a scolding fist, but he lost the chance to complain again.

Duke Gareth stepped away from his conversation with Raoul and clapped his hands loudly to attract everyone's attention.

"On the king's behalf, I would like to thank all of you for coming to this training event. Now, without further ado, I would like to introduce your judge, the venerable Wyldon, and turn you over to today's commanders—both of whom come highly recommended by Training Master Mindelan—Sir Dalton, and his remarkable wife, Penelope."

"How am I your remarkable wife?" Penelope muttered as they stepped forward after Duke Gareth's introduction. "I don't even mend your socks for you."

"I think he was referring to your ability to kill monsters," Dalton whispered back.

"Almost everyone here can do that." Penelope shrugged. "Maybe next they'll introduce you as my delightful husband."

PDPD

The day went surprisingly well. Many of the knights were from Mindelan's generation (and a few were from Alanna's); they all enjoyed the chance to relive their page years by marking one another with paint wounds and rising from the dead despite large blue and green scars. None of them had any qualms about giving or taking directions to or from Penelope.

Cleon did, however, insist on inventing all sorts of endearingly irritating nicknames for all the women participating in the exercise. Together, Owen and Selena proved remarkably good at predicting how and where Wyldon would pass his judgments (even if said judgments weren't always favorable). And, when they stopped for lunch, Seaver taught Rissa and Byrn the shocking lyrics to a few obscure drinking songs and then encouraged them to sing at the top of their lungs in order to distract the men of the Own into an ambush. Merric, meanwhile, convinced Vina to advise him regarding his attire for an upcoming feast and she demonstrated a remarkable aptitude for discussing color and weave while booby-trapping a trail.

Lord Wyldon eventually declared the Own the winners (mostly because he judged the group of knights and squires more harshly to avoid the appearance of favoritism). But Penelope and Dalton's speech went over well, largely because it was a short reminder to stay focused and stay flexible followed by instructions to wash up and dress for the evening's feast.

PDPD

The meal—possibly because several of the knights accompanied it with a small ocean of wine—maintained a celebratory tone through several courses. Penelope and Dalton sat near Kel (whose presence reminded them that they had to be up early the next morning and kept them from overindulging). There, they kept an eye on Rissa and Vina, who were chatting with Selena and Byrn, and listened to Neal's commentary on the genial confusion of several drunken individuals (whose hangovers he expected to be treating the next day.) They stepped away from the table and towards the dance floor shortly after a severely flushed and surprisingly middle-aged knight began offering rather inarticulate toasts.

"When did I become your charming wife?" Dalton asked Penelope.

"Sometime between the seven and tenth toasts," Vina supplied, stepping up along Dalton's free side.

"Or shortly after he stopped keeping a careful count," Byrn suggested. Then he held a hand out to Vina. "Care to dance?"

"You do know that I'm not—"

"You are, however, my friend Vina," Byrn said, glancing over towards Rissa, who appeared to be enjoying a playful argument with Selena and Owen. "And I trust you not to step on my toes." He grinned at Vina. "Unless you think she'd be jealous."

Vina shook her head and joined him in a waltz. " Karyna wouldn't—"

"I meant Rissa." Byrn glanced somewhat nervously across the room.

"Well, she's not about to butcher her beloved twin sister. As for you…" Vina pursed her lips thoughtfully. "Well, she does seem rather partial to you…"

"Maybe you're the only other woman she'd trust me with," he said.

"I could step on your toes," Vina offered, waving to Rissa, who promptly pulled Owen onto the floor. "Just to be sure."

Dalton turned to Penelope. "Well, since our squires are extending the day's lesson into Dancing With Women, I think we ought to follow their lead."

"Duty calls." Penelope smiled and stepped into his arms.

_So, thanks for reading and reviewing. Hopefully the next chapter (which should be up in early February) will be a bit more serious. See…_

"You should go with them." Wyldon sighed thoughtfully. "You're in danger of growing complacent here, Selena."

She held back a defensive shrug. "I suppose you'd like me to take Byrn along too."

"I think you'd both benefit from the trip."


	17. Preparing

_Hello gentle readers and amazing reviewers! Here is the promised early February update—it takes place a week after the knights' training exercise episode and takes a few liberties with characters and a location belonging to Tamora Pierce. Enjoy!_

A week after the summer training exercises, the training master held an early morning meeting for her various advisors, assistants, and associates—as Neal declared himself to be. Penelope and Selena arrived in sweaty practice clothes and leaned their glaives against the wall. Wyldon had also been on the practice courts but managed to retain an immaculate appearance. Dalton had gone for an early morning ride and acquired a liberal sprinkling of horse hair. Neal and Kel came in rumbled clothing, each accusing the other's children of spreading around stomach upset that had kept them both up all night.

Wyldon cleared his throat pointedly and the griping stopped as soon as they were all seated. Kel reached for the full teapot beside the table and began pouring for everyone.

Dalton added milk and sugar to one mug and passed it to Penelope, who didn't manage to get a single sip before Neal snatched it away.

"I can't help but admire," Neal told several glaring faces, "the fact that, after only a few short years of marriage, he's learned to fix tea exactly the way she likes it."

"And, incidentally I'm sure, exactly the way you like it." Penelope scowled affectionately at Neal. "It took him all of two mornings to master."

Dalton heaved a long suffering sigh, added milk and sugar to his own mug, and gave it to Penelope before grabbing a third cup for himself. "I've always been a quick study.

Wyldon cleared his throat loudly.

Selena passed him a mug of black tea and added sugar to another for herself. "I think last week's exercise went well," she murmured.

"It's certainly given many people much to think about," Wyldon agreed, "which was its general purpose."

"Which begs the question," Mindelan continued. "What do we do next?" She turned pointedly towards Dalton and Penelope, who suspected that the question was some sort of test.

"We hold another," Penelope ventured, "for a different group of knights."

"Perhaps in a different location," Dalton added.

"Exactly." Mindelan smiled. "Why don't you discuss the possibility with Alanna and George when you visit Pirates' Swoop? They're already accustomed to hosting training camps."

"But we haven't even asked permission to make the trip," Penelope said. "We we've only just been invited."

"You don't need it," Kel reminded them. "You're free to make your own decisions, even if you choose to spend much of your time working for me."

"But we should—"Dalton began.

"Go," Wyldon finished. "I'm certainly not the one to request the use of their home."

"But we haven't—" Penelope started, driving Neal into a you-should-have-known eye roll.

"Consider your permission granted then. Leave tomorrow." Kel smiled. "You ought to stretch you legs and enjoy yourselves."

PDPD

Byrn had recently made a habit of assisting with the pages' morning training. Rissa suspected he had an ulterior motive for doing so, but she didn't protest. It gave more pages an opportunity for one-on-one instruction. And she was rather flattered.

And if, while they were tidying up, they often found themselves standing alone inside supply sheds, Rissa was willing to consider this an added benefit.

Byrn glanced out the door to be sure that Wyldon (who would undoubtedly disapprove of his ulterior motive) wasn't approaching and wrapped both arms around Rissa's waist.

"So," he murmured. "I hear you're leaving tomorrow."

She nodded. "Probably so early you won't want to get up and see us off."

"Any chance I can persuade you to sleep in and stay here?" He traced her cheek with his nose.

She turned her head and kissed his jaw. "Any chance I can persuade you to come with us?"

He nodded, his cheek brushing against hers. "If it were up to me, anyway. But I don't think Penelope and Dalton will adopt a third squire." He sighed. "It's terribly unfair, you know. You've only just—I feel as though I've only just gotten to know the real Rissa—the passionate, exuberant, adorable creature you've been this past week. And now you're being taken away."

"I'm sorry." Rissa wrapped her fingers tenderly over his shoulder. "I—Vina told—I only just realized it's possible to mourn one man and love another." She swallowed and forced herself to meet Byrn's eyes.

He smiled sadly and lowered his head to kiss the fingers she was resting on his shoulder. "I'm glad you figured it out," he whispered.

"But I'm not being taken away."

"You going. That's even worse." He murmured the words into her ear before kissing her cheek. "And I'll miss you."

Rissa sighed. "At least come help me pack."

"Very well." He smiled and lifted a hand to cup her cheek. "But I do feel its only fair to remind you that I'm rather too large to fit in any of your bags."

Rissa shrugged and tilted her face for a lingering kiss.

The sound of the door swinging startled them, but Byrn pulled her closer instead of jumping away. Luckily, Rissa realized, the intruder was Dalton and not Wyldon or Mindelan.

"You missed a staff," he informed them, holding it up. "I though Vina was with you," he added.

"She hurried to pack," Rissa answered. She and Byrn were both holding very still, as though they hoped this would prevent Dalton from realizing how closely they were pressed together. "So she could spend the afternoon at the rider barracks."

"Well." Dalton's smile had a mischievous crinkle to it. "It was good of you to stay and help clean up, but I think Wyldon and Selena have the rest of it."

Dalton set the staff with the others, nodded at both of them, and left, whistling loudly.

PDPD

Selena accompanied Wyldon as he walked through the stables to be sure the pages had left everything in order.

"What's Mindelan's plan for tomorrow's lesson?" she asked, mostly for the sake of making conversation (always a somewhat dicey proposition with Wyldon).

"We don't have one yet. But you needn't worry. Mindelan can manage without you. I used to do all of this myself, once upon a time."

"I know, sir. Rumor has it you did very well. But there's no reason I shouldn't help."

"Won't you be leaving for Pirates' Swoop?"

"I wasn't planning on it." Selena frowned, her face matching Wyldon's. "Should I be?"

"I'd obviously assumed you were," he noted.

"Why sir?" she murmured. He, of all people, ought to have been the least likely to encourage her to visit Lady Alanna.

"You should go with them." Wyldon sighed thoughtfully. "You're in danger of growing complacent here, Selena."

She held back a defensive shrug. "I suppose you'd like me to take Byrn along too."

"I think you'd both benefit from the trip."

Selena nodded, aware that he was right. The endless monotony of page training was dulling her reflexes. She needed a break from routine. "Well, I'd best go pack then. Do you mind informing Mindelan for me?"

"It will be my pleasure." Wyldon clasped her shoulder briefly before they parted ways.

Selena swallowed, willing away her reluctance to leave home and focusing on her excitement at the prospect of traveling with friends, and went to find Byrn. He, at least, would be unambivalently thrilled.

PDPD

"Do you think we might also have time to visit your family?" Penelope asked.

"Perhaps." Dalton smiled. "They're yours too you know. Or at least they consider you theirs."

Penelope smiled rather shyly and kissed his cheek.

"Or they might come see us at Alanna's. It's not too long a ride." He stretched his neck. "I'll check over our camping gear if you'll go grab provisions for meals."

She nodded, they kissed, and he continued up the stairs towards their wing while she trotted away to the kitchens.

"Going to visit your old mistress?" Marcel asked, hurrying up the stairs to catch up with Dalton, who clamped his lips shut and resolved not to be provoked. "What? Have you decided the squires are too young for your taste and you'd rather have a grandmother?"

"And are you still bitter about the scarcity of women, of any age, who find you attractive?" Dalton snapped, shattering his resolution.

Marcel snapped too, punching Dalton's face.

Dalton let him land the first blow and retaliated by hooking his foot under Marcel's knees, pulling his legs out from under him so that he tumbled down the stairs.

Dalton watched calmly as Marcel picked himself up. "I'm too old for this. Unfortunately, I don't think you'll ever outgrow it."

PDPD

Dalton found Neal, not in the infirmary, but writing at a small desk in his family's suite.

"What brings you here?" Neal asked. And then, as Dalton turned his head, revealing a nasty bruise on his cheek, he added. "How'd that happen?"

"Minor scuffle with Marcel," Dalton muttered. "You should see his bruises."

"I'd just as soon not."

"Given their location, you probably won't," Dalton assured him. "He fell all the way down the stairs."

"And you managed to stop yourself against the banister?" Neal shook his head and healed Dalton's bruise. "Now, try to keep yourself and your squires in one piece long enough to let me write one letter."

Dalton nodded and started for the door. Neal managed to lift his pen before he turned around.

"Actually—"

Neal winced.

"I came for advice—"

Neal sighed dramatically and sat down in one chair, gesturing for Dalton to take the other.

"about—"

"I do not want to hear any intimate details regarding Penelope's uncertain—"

"Rissa," Dalton finished firmly.

"Oh. What about her?"

"Byrn." Dalton sighed. "You and I never really talked about Penelope. But I think we understood one another—"

"or at least we both understood that she'd be furious if she found us discussing her." Neal smiled. "And I trusted her trust in you. And I knew you to be an intelligent and well-meaning person." Neal folded his fingers. "So how do you feel about Rissa's feelings for Byrn?"

Dalton blinked.

"Or Byrn's feelings for Rissa?"

"I'm not certain what either might be," Dalton admitted. "And it's not that I want to interfere," he added. "I just feel as though I ought to be looking out for her. Or she ought to feel that I am."

"And what about Vina?" Neal inquired.

"She—" Dalton began guardedly. All the Riders knew about Vina and Karyna, but little of the court. And he knew they were trying to keep it that way.

"And her involvement with that lovely young Rider?" Neal specified. "A very sensible girl—she kept Vina still through her healing last week." He nodded smugly at Dalton. "It's hard to mistake that kind of devotion. I've known for months."

"Well, for one thing, Karyna can't possibly leave Vina pregnant."

Neal smothered an amused grin. "A most salient point. Though I feel obligated to point out that you have managed not to—note that I avoid the insulting implications of 'have not managed'—to leave Penelope in such a condition. I would hasten to add that I have a distinct disinclination to discuss such a matter with you in her absence. Or in her presence, for that matter."

"Quite," Dalton agreed. "But Vina's told me how she feels about Karyna."

"Ah," Neal murmured. "Perhaps now is the time to tell you that, although you and I kept our discussion of Penelope to a minimum, Penelope and I discussed you on several occasions."

Dalton shrugged. "Alanna and I discussed her on a number of occasions." He smiled. "We also talked about you once or twice—particularly when she wished to illustrate things I ought not to do."

"Glad I could be of service," Neal muttered.

"More than you know." Dalton stood and clasped Neal's hand. "Thanks."

PDPD

"Jeck," Selena called, stepping into the smithy.

"Mmmph." He grunted affectionately but did not look up from the intricate decoration he was adding to a hilt.

She sat on the bench beside him and waited, scratching Shadow's ears, until he'd finished his work and kissed her to explain that Wyldon wanted her to go to Pirates' Swoop with Penelope and Dalton.

"I haven't been in ages," she added, "because Wyldon would never go there himself. But I think he wants to send me now as a sort of peace offering. And he's right. I do need to get out and do a little adventuring."

Jeck took her hand in his own, toying gently with her fingers. "Yes, you've been a little pale and sluggish lately," he teased. "It will certainly improve your color."

Selena smiled and then stepped closer, sighing. "I'll miss you though."

"Mmm." He wrapped an arm around her and dropped his nose to her hair. "How long will you be gone?"

She swallowed. "About a month." She tilted her head up towards him. "Come with us?"

He shook his head. "You know I can't leave the workshop for so long."

"But Jason could—"

"I'm not a knight, Selena. My place is here."

"But if we were mar—"

Jeck sighed. "It wouldn't change a thing if we were married. Nothing will ever change what we are. I have swords to make here. And you have work to do out there." He squeezed her elbow. "Don't worry. I'm not going anywhere."

She shrugged out of his embrace. "So you've said." She turned and hurried upstairs to pack.

Jason returned from his errand just as Selena shut the door—rather more loudly and firmly than usual.

"What did I miss?" he asked, treating Jeck to an accusing frown.

PDPD

Selena stuffed the last of her shirts in her pack, swiped impatiently at her wet cheeks, and flopped down on the bed to curl up and wait for the headache and the cry she knew were coming. It would have been easier if she'd been angry. But she didn't have the energy to resent Wyldon's orders or Jeck's duties. Worse, she knew Jeck was right; he'd be waiting for her when she got back. Nothing would change, which, she supposed, was exactly the problem.

She clenched her jaw and closed her eyes, willing herself into a doze before she embarrassed herself with an outburst.

She barely noticed Jeck until he'd stretched out beside her and wrapped an arm around her waist.

"I'm sorry—"

"Me too." She shifted until her back rested against his chest.

"I'm not what you need—" he tried to continue.

She opened her eyes. "But you're exactly who I want. If you were a knight, you'd probably be obligated to marry some ugly little baroness for her lands. And then where would I be?"

"I'm afraid Jason would try to steal you away," he murmured.

"Well," Selena whispered back. "He might not be as handsome as you, but he can cook."

Jeck chuckled, his breath warm on the back of her neck. "Speaking of which. We should probably go down and help with supper."

Selena shut her eyes and settled her head against Jeck's shoulder. "How about if we wait and see if he'll bang on the ceiling with his broom again?"

"That's always an entertaining way to wake up," Jeck agreed, yawning. "And this a good way to nap."

Or, Selena thought as she dozed off again, to say 'I'm sorry' and 'goodbye'.

_Many thanks to all my readers and reviewers. The next update will chronicle the trip… _

"Dalton," Penelope called. "Didn't you take Bandit to Daine this morning?"

He glanced back and saw their dog trotting alongside Penelope's horse. "Oh, so that's why Numair burst out laughing when she said 'we'll try to keep him'."

_And will hopefully be more upbeat. My apologies for the more melancholy tone here—it probably has something to do with the fact that I wrote this one while my own personal version of Bandit sat beside my packed suitcase and delivered guilt-inducing stares. Anyway, assuming a minimum of new semester/ new job craziness, the next episode should be up in a few weeks (hopefully before Valentines' Day, hmmm…)_


	18. Journey

_Welcome once my to all wonderful readers and reviewers. This chapter takes place just hours after the last. Location, monsters, and props belong to Tamora Pierce. Happy Valentine's Day and enjoy your (just-in-time-but-not-especially-seasonally-appropriate) chapter!_

Wanting to get an early start so they could finish most of their traveling before the hottest part of the day, Penelope and Dalton led their party out of the palace gates shortly after dawn. Kel and Wyldon waved at them as they passed the practice courts. Neal refused, on general principle, to rouse himself early enough to provide a sarcastic send-off.

"Dalton," Penelope called about an hour after they'd left the palace. "Didn't you take Bandit to Daine this morning?"

He glanced back and saw their dog trotting alongside Penelope's horse. "Oh, so that's why Numair burst out laughing when she said 'we'll try to keep him'."

"Not a particularly impressive effort if you ask me," Byrn muttered, smiling at Rissa. "Then again, the company out here is fairly irresistible."

"He's certainly doomed to disappointment if he came for the food," Vina remarked.

PDPD

"You left Shadow with Jeck?" Penelope asked as she and Vina helped Selena pitch their tent. Dalton, accompanied by Bandit, was gathering wood for a fire. Rissa and Byrn had hastily volunteered to fetch water from the creek, but seemed to be rather slower in returning.

Selena nodded tightly. "Yes, after we sort of…" She frowned. "Can I ask—do you and Dalton fi—argue ever?"

"Of course, occasionally." Penelope shrugged. "Pass me that stake, Vina. Doesn't everybody?"

Selena shrugged. "Less since you've gotten married?"

"Possible more—since we've tackled more together"—she took the stake from Vina and began driving it into the ground—"and we've been together long enough that I'm not afraid of loosing my temper around him and he knows I'll generally see reason if it stares me in the face long enough." She narrowed her eyes. "Why do you ask? Jeck's not mad at you for going away, is he?"

"I don't know." Selena sighed. "Neither of us was happy with parting for a month. I sort of asked him to maybe come with us and suggested that it might be easier if we were married. He didn't take it well." She hammered at a tent stake. "He did have a point—he can't really take his work with him."

Penelope nodded. "Not without an ox-drawn wagon and a small miracle."

"I just—whether or not we're married—it shouldn't matter so much, should it?"

"No." Vina spoke quietly, but she startled both Penelope and Selena. "People think—but it doesn't seem to have much to do with whether or not people are happy together. My parents have been married for years and they both hate it. Not to mention each other." She pulled her side of the tent upright and knotted the rope around a stake. "And didn't Daine live with Numair for years before the wedding? So I don't think being married makes people happy or unhappy. It's probably the foreverness of it that people insist on making a big deal of."

"Marrying someone you love only confirms what you already know," Penelope agreed. She smiled at Vina, who twitched her lips in response and glanced down at the stake beside her knees.

"I know." Selena poked her head inside the tent. "It's just—"she shrugged.

"You'll be gone a long stretch," Penelope said, waving at Dalton when she spotted him. "Maybe Jeck will miss you and learn something from it."

PDPD

Dalton reached the tent and Vina stood up suddenly, offering to help dig the latrine. He nodded, eager to avoid the possibility of overhearing any more of Selena's conversation, and grabbed a spade.

"That was good of you," he said. Then he noticed Vina was digging a bit more vigorously than necessary. "Are you alright?"

Vina nodded, but stopped digging long enough to shoot him a puzzled frown.

"Does it bother you that you'll probably never marry and have children?"

Vina shrugged. "Not as much as you might expect," she said, continuing to dig. "Most people told me being a knight would prevent that and it didn't matter enough to stop me." She shifted her weight from one knee to the other. "Anyway, Rissa will have loads of children—I look forward to telling them stories and stuffing them all full of sweets just before supper."

Dalton grinned.

"Don't worry. I'll wait until after supper to treat yours."

"I appreciate the thought, but I'm not sure we'll have any either."

Vina smiled, shaking her head. "I think you might—not loads, Penelope's too practical for that—but one or two, maybe."

"Well, if we don't it certainly won't be for lack of suitable godsmothers."

PDPD

Rissa knelt to fill the waterskins and Byrn flopped down beside her on the bank, dangling his fingers in the creek. Then he lifted his hand, flicking water droplets at her head.

She grinned and splashed him thoroughly enough to wet his hair. "Didn't Selena bring you along for free labor?" She tossed him another empty skin.

He sighed and started filling it. "I hope so. I wouldn't want to be another tag along puppy."

Rissa stoppered her waterskin and fixed him with a steady gaze. "You aren't."

He raised an eyebrow and stoppered his own skin.

"Wrong ears. Wrong nose." She dropped to the grass beside him and propped herself up on her elbows. "And I'm really glad you're here."

He rolled over on his back and blinked up at her. "Me too." He tugged her elbow until she dropped her head onto his chest, turning over so that they could both look at the clouds. "Though you seemed pretty happy to see Bandit."

"I've been happy all day." She lifted her head and let it settle again on his chest. "It's mostly your fault."

"I can't claim credit for the sunshine or the scenic route," he warned her.

"Those are just minor factors." She turned her head for a brief kiss.

Byrn returned the kiss at length and sighed contently when she turned her face back towards the sky. "I'm glad we have this time together before…"

"Byrn?"

"Right. You have the monopoly on morbid remarks. Forgive me for forgetting." He traced her chin with his finger.

"I don't have any such monopoly," Rissa informed him loftily.

"Good! Want to go swimming? We might drown."

"We'd get wet." Rissa dropped her cheek to his shirt so she could gaze straight at him.

"It's a warm afternoon." He settled a hand lazily over her stomach.

"What about our clothes?" She stretched her neck so she could kiss his chin.

"We could leave—" He tensed suddenly, spotting the Spidren just before it released a rope of sticky webbing.

They rolled apart and Rissa scrambled to her feet, unaware of her own screaming. They wound up on opposite sides of the Spidren, but both drew their blades to attack.

It hissed loudly and threw more webbing towards Byrn. He ducked, rolling away again, and the Spidren spun, catching Rissa in the webbing before she could react. The Spidren yanked sharply, trying to drag Rissa closer to itself.

Rissa dug in her heals. Then, though her arms were bound tightly to her sides, she managed to lift her sword enough to prod the Spidren away.

Byrn yelled loudly and smacked the beast with a long branch to distract it into turning. Then he darted around to cut away Rissa's binding, slicing accidentally across Rissa's arm in the process. He just had time to squeeze her hand for reassurance before it turned around and drove them apart.

PDPD

Vina had stood, Dalton realized as he followed her, just a moment before the first scream. Not that he had time to give the matter much thought as they overtook Penelope and Selena on their way to the creek.

PDPD

Ignoring the blood trickling down her arm, Rissa spun and jabbed at the Spidren's abdomen. Byrn scooped up a rock and lobbed it at the monster's head.

It convulsed under the onslaught, jerking Rissa's sword from her hand as it fell to the ground.

She darted backwards and Byrn wrapped a relieved arm around her shoulders.

"I'm so sorry." Byrn clapped a handkerchief over the cut on her arm.

Rissa shrugged. "S'only a scratch," she mumbled, keeping her lips close to his. "Definitely preferably to sticky strangulation.

He chuckled softly and kissed her again.

"So?" she glanced at the Spidren as they stepped apart.

"I think it's only stunned."

Rissa nodded and lifted her blade free. "We'd better rectify that."

PDPD

The four of them arrived just behind Bandit and just in time to find Rissa and Byrn hacking the head and limbs off of a Spidren.

Bandit barked decisively and they both stepped away from the corpse.

"It's dead," Rissa declared unnecessarily.

"So I see," Dalton said. "Why did you scream?"

"I suppose I was startled."

"So," Selena said teasingly," just how did it manage to catch both of you unawares?"

Rissa blinked sheepishly.

Vina covered her smile with one hand.

Byrn shrugged. "We were surprised." After a stretch of somewhat awkward shuffling, he added, "luckily we managed to gain the upper hand."

"So I see," Dalton repeated, calmly surveying the remains.

"Quite a thorough job," Penelope remarked.

"We'll take care of the body," Selena announced, tugging on Byrn's and Vina's sleeves. "Someone should probably take care of her arm though."

"Here," Penelope muttered, beckoning Rissa.

PDPD

"I learned enough from Neal to handle the basics," Penelope said, leading the way back to the tent and gesturing for Rissa to sit on a convenient fallen log. "I'll clean the cut up and then Alanna can check it in a few days."

Rissa nodded absently as Penelope pulled the healing kit out of her pack.

"I've been thinking," Rissa said slowly as Penelope began cleaning out her cut.

Penelope nodded to show she was listening.

"about Byrn," Rissa continued.

"He's traveling with us," Penelope murmured. "What is there to think…" she trailed off and raised a knowing eyebrow.

Rissa blushed. "About whether or not to sleep with him."

"Ah," Penelope muttered, dropping her eyes to Rissa's wound. "That would be a matter requiring considerable contemplation."

"Erm," Rissa agreed.

"I've no idea what to say," Penelope admitted, deciding that she'd rather be an honest idiot than a hypocrite. The lecturing approach had been worse than useless when Rissa courted Gregory.

Rissa blinked. "It all seemed so simple with Gregory because I didn't really think things through." She shook her head. "Or think much at all for that matter. Now it all feels more complicated."

"Believe me," Penelope told her. "This is an improvement."

"You're biased," Rissa told her. Then she shook her head. "I think I like Byrn more too, maybe even love him. I—I definitely trust him."

"That's important," Penelope murmured.

"But I'm not entirely sure what I want. I mean, obviously I'd like to be with him." Rissa swallowed. "But I don't know what's going to happen. I mean, he'll have his Ordeal at midwinter and then…We don't know if—when we'll see each other again."

"I see." Penelope pulled a clean bandage from the healing kit and began wrapping it around Rissa's arm. "That is difficult."

Rissa turned a speculative gaze towards Penelope. "You would know, wouldn't you?"

Penelope winced, wondering what she'd done to earn a squire even more blunt and brazen than herself.

Rissa lifted an expectant eyebrow.

Penelope sighed. "We waited for a while, but not for a wedding." She shrugged. "Then I realized we were both ready and my reputation was already rather compromised. And I was worried about the future, afraid one of us might die, which"—she fixed Rissa with a stern gaze as she tied off her bandage—"in retrospect, wasn't a good reason."

"But you didn't regret it?"

Penelope shook her head. "I also didn't have any parents to disappoint and, even if I didn't quite expect to marry Dalton, I knew I wasn't distracting him from a marriage alliance." She paused thoughtfully. "And, I feel it's only fair to warn you, our knightmasters found out almost immediately."

Rissa bit her lip and nodded.

"Look," Penelope said, squeezing Rissa's shoulder. "I know it isn't easy figuring where you stand with yourself, much less with someone else."

"Do you want to accompany your empathy with a little insight or advice?" Rissa asked, tilting her head rather cheekily.

"I am obligated, but unlikely to be appreciated." Penelope sat back on her heels. "Do you actually want it?"

"At least an attempt," Rissa urged.

"Whatever you do," Penelope said slowly, buying herself time, "be sure it's because you want to. Not because you think you should want to. Not because you feel like you should or shouldn't follow a certain courtly code. Not just because he wants to; although if you do"—Penelope twirled her hand expressively around her wrist—"he should want to too. Some things are meant to be mutual endeavors."

"Obviously."

"Speaking of which," Penelope added, her fingers tugging at the chain around her own neck. "Don't do anything without a charm. What you definitely don't want is a baby."

"Thanks," Rissa said, pulling her sleeve down over the bandage. "And hypothetically speaking, where might one buy a charm against pregnancy?"

"Realistically speaking, Lady Alanna hands them freely to any woman who asks with a minimum of unwanted questions."

Rissa nodded and then hurried away, leaving Penelope to pack up the healing kit.

PDPD

"I caught the tail end," Dalton said, coming up behind her, " of a conversation I'd been anticipating with the squeamish dread I usually reserve for Spidren."

Penelope smiled faintly. "I think I need some brandy."

Dalton dropped his flask into her hand.

"And a backrub."

Dalton's hands settled on her shoulders.

"And a maybe a new brain."

Dalton lowered his head to kiss her cheek. "I'll see what I can do." He spun her around and pulled her close against his chest. "But I am rather attached to the old one."

_So, thanks for reading and reviewing. I'm not sure when the next update will be, but I have reason to hope it'll be interesting…_

"Why are you watching Byrn?" Rissa demanded.

George caught Dalton's eye and grinned. "Just trying to decide whether or not he's worthy."


	19. Proof

_Many thanks to everyone who reviewed the last chapter. I meant to have an update for you sooner—I've had plenty of stress to share with my characters (and plenty of reasons to retreat to fantasy-land) over the past few weeks, but said stress rather limited my writing time. The upshot is that I now have a long, intrigue-packed chapter for you. Recognizable characters and scenery still belong to Tamora Pierce. This chapter takes place a few days after the last, in which Rissa and Byrn fended off a Spidren attack on the way to Pirates' Swoop. Enjoy!_

They arrived at Pirates' Swoop shortly before supper. Lady Alanna just had time to examine Rissa's arm—and possibly, Penelope hoped, to discuss a few private matters—before they gathered in the dining room for a simple supper. Afterwards, they took their tea (and Bandit took a large beef bone plundered from the kitchen) to the sitting room.

Alanna immediately pulled Penelope aside. "You're doing well with her." She glanced towards the window where Rissa had tucked herself into Byrn's arms as they both admired the view. "And her." She tilted her chin towards Vina, who was sprawled on the rug beside Selena as they shared a large volume of military history.

"I'm trying, anyway," Penelope whispered.

"You'll notice that the folks who say 'what doesn't kill you will make you stronger' tend to overlook the possibility that it might drive you crazy." Alanna smiled.

"I knew there was a catch," Penelope muttered.

"So long as you learn something from it," Alanna said, giving her a small nudge towards Dalton, who was beginning a chess game against George.

Penelope grabbed a random book—which turned out to be a collection of epic poems—from the shelf and curled up beside Dalton so that she could keep half an eye on the game. Soon, however, she was absorbed in reading, not the text, but the notes (most in Neal's hand) that had been written in its margins.

_And how exactly, _he'd written, _did the twenty fair maidens 'stand all day 'neath the glowing sun' without getting vicious sunburns? _

"Invisible magic canopy," Rissa suggested when she came to sit beside Penelope.

In any case, the chess game consisted mostly of long silences during which Dalton glowered at the board and George pretended not to pay it any attention, instead monitoring Byrn's every movement as the squire circled the room, scratched Bandit's rump, and investigated the bookshelf.

"Why are you watching Byrn?" Rissa demanded.

George caught Dalton's eye and grinned. "Just trying to decide whether or not he's worthy."

"Worthy of what?" Byrn asked, coming to stand with his hands on Rissa's shoulders. Rissa turned her head to brush her nose against his wrist.

"Learning certain trade secrets." George shrugged. "I wouldn't presume to make any judgments regarding his suitability for lady squires."

"Actually," Alanna put in, "he's just clever enough not to voice them." She regarded Byrn thoughtfully. "I'm not so tactful. If I had any objections, you'd have heard them already."

"Trade secrets?" Byrn repeated, mostly to avoid further scrutiny.

"If you teach said skills to all your guests," Vina remarked, "they won't remain secrets."

"She only says that because it's one of the few things I'm noticeably and consistently better at." Rissa smirked and pulled Byrn onto the couch beside her.

"Which is clearly a reflection of the purity of our inner motivations," Vina added, her eyes still on the book she was sharing with Selena.

George scowled genially at both twins. "Let me reassure Vina that I will also instruct any worthy young squire she brings forward in said secrets. Mostly so the poor fellow will know exactly what he's getting into."

"Vina's too sensible to court a squire, unlike some I know." Alanna looked pointedly at her husband. "I'd guess there's a handsome Rider waiting for her."

"There's a Rider." Vina smiled, pulling her eyes away from the page so she could glance at Dalton and then fix George with a steady gaze. "Only I'm not sure handsome is the right word for her."

"Well," George said, expressing little, if any, surprise, "keeping raising courtly eyebrows and they'll crawl right off their owners' faces."

"And I thought certain court ladies had taken to plucking theirs out," Penelope muttered.

"Do they eventually grow into butterflies?" Dalton asked.

"Only the particularly bushy ones," George informed him with the utmost sincerity.

PDPD

Byrn, Rissa, and Vina all trailed after Selena when she left the sitting room to head for bed. The three of them left Selena at her door and proceeded outside for a walk around the walls of the Swoop. Vina completed one circuit of the Swoop with Rissa and Byrn before kissing both of their cheeks, whispering goodnight, and slipping inside.

PDPD

"Speaking of eyebrows," George muttered, stopping Dalton and Penelope before they could follow their squires. "I'm afraid I've a small favor to ask of you."

Penelope blinked and Dalton drew his eyebrows together in the frown George had predicted. "Somehow, George, I'm more comfortable granting your big favors."

"Wise lad," Alanna murmured, coming to sit beside her husband.

"Consider this an invitation then, or an opportunity for independent travel," George urged.

"I'm intrigued," Penelope admitted.

"You're incorrigible," Dalton muttered, wrapping an arm around her waist. But he sighed and nodded at George.

"I'm a paranoid old man," he began.

"That doesn't mean we're safe from—" Alanna began.

George covered his wife's mouth with gentle fingers. "And our nearest noble neighbors, Lord and Lady Shelton, are hosting foreign guests—a pair of siblings from Carthak, who've been here a month, going on long rides through the countryside and don't seem likely to depart any time soon."

"And you want us to pay them a discrete visit and make sure they're not taking in anything beyond the scenery," Dalton guessed.

George nodded. "Very discrete. In fact, don't identify yourselves. If they are here as spies, I don't want to reveal myself or my guests to them."

"How are we supposed to accomplish that?" Penelope asked. "As a lady knight, I'm hardly an inconspicuous—"

"Hardly," George agreed, sighing thoughtfully. "Unless you appear to be an ordinary squire."

"People do make that mistake on occasion," Dalton muttered.

"In the dark," Penelope said, aware that all three of them were suddenly studying her face and figure, "when I'm wearing winter clothes."

Alanna beckoned her to take a step forward and narrowed her eyes. "It'll work." She held up a hand to silence Penelope's protest. "I'm an old expert, remember?"

"I suppose I have a lot left to learn from you." Penelope smiled crookedly.

"It isn't difficult." Alanna grinned. "Just don't do anything sensible. Or say anything sensitive." She glanced smugly at Dalton and George, before offering more specific advice.

"We'll worry tomorrow about what you should wear. You can't claim to be any older than fifteen. And you still shouldn't talk much—your voice is fairly high-pitched—but that's just as well because quiet people usually hear more. And"—she pointed at Dalton—"don't even think about kissing him."

"You just said not to be sensible," Penelope muttered cheekily, just as Dalton protested that they weren't idiots.

Alanna nodded. "Really, though, don't think about it. You'd be amazed what people will pick up on, especially if they have secrets themselves."

"She _is _an old expert," George said, eyeing Dalton's hand, which he had stretched unconsciously toward Penelope's shoulder. "The good news," he added, "is that your sisters should be here for their visit by the time you get back."

PDPD

Byrn kissed Rissa as soon as her twin had disappeared. "Have I mentioned how much I love your sister for her sense of discretion?"

Smiling, Rissa shook her head and pulled him towards the wall so that they could gaze out over the ocean. "It's sounds like a rather unlikely path to a girl's heart."

"I assure you I have ulterior motives." Byrn wrapped his hand around her cheek. "We haven't been alone since…" They both shrugged at the memory of the Spidren attack. "I've missed you." He kissed her forehead, then her cheek. "I'm grateful."

"I think there was some logic in there somewhere," she murmured, stepping close enough to kiss his chin. "Only it hasn't been that long."

"How's your arm?"

"Better. See?" Rissa wrapped both her arms tightly around him.

"Quite," he said, pretending to grunt.

She smiled and took a half-step back.

"Yes, you've demonstrated considerable durability." Byrn slid his hand down her neck and fingered the chain there when he noticed it.

Rissa swallowed and cast her eyes out over the ocean.

"And you don't have to prove anything else to me," he said quietly.

"I know." Rissa buried her face against his chest, glad the darkness hid her blush. "Thanks. You're just about the only person I'll ever hear that from." She rubbed her cheek against his shirt. "But I might have things to prove to myself."

"That's different." He pushed her back, his hands still warm on her shoulder, and kissed her forehead. "In that case, I might want to prove a few things to you."

"Really?" Rissa lifted daring eyes to his face.

"Quite possibly." Then he took one of her hands and laced his fingers through hers, frowning slightly. "Only not here."

"Hmmm?" Rissa pulled their interlaced fingers to her chest.

Byrn smiled. "George is a personable fellow, but he seems to know everything. And"—he lifted his free hand to her cheek—"whatever we might be to each other, I don't want us to wind up as one of his bets."

"Me neither." Rissa turned, settling her back against his chest so they could both watch the ocean. "At least, so long as it can be avoided," she added philosophically.

PDPD

Despite the discomfort of her disguise—and the entertainment said disguise provided for the squires who'd bid her farewell at the gates of the Swoop—Penelope managed to retain her good humor until midmorning.

Then she caught Dalton shooting her his twentieth curious glance and snapped in exasperation. "I never had much of a chest to begin with—flattening it can't make much of a difference. I'm still me, you know."

"I know." Dalton slowed until his horse was level with hers and answered in a voice made up of equal parts cheekiness and heart-melting sweetness. "It's probably why I can't stop staring at you."

Penelope sighed forgivingly and let him reach over and grip her shoulder.

"That and you do make a rather pretty boy."

Penelope shoved playfully at his arm, loosening his seat in the saddle. "Pretty capable of retaliating later if you derive too much amusement from this."

Dalton chuckled. "I'm afraid I wouldn't make a particularly pretty girl."

Penelope gave an amused sigh. "And handsome is such an awkward euphemism to apply to young ladies."

PDPD

With a little thoughtful planning and careful lurking, Penelope and Dalton managed to 'happily stumble upon' the Sheltons, who waved cheerfully at them. Their guests, Lady Alba (young, pretty, and plump with pouting lips) and Lord Afzal (a few years older with broad shoulders and a beaky nose), seemed just as delighted by the newcomers.

Lord Shelton nudged his mount forward to greet them. "Well met, sir—"

"Da—Darin," Dalton filled in hastily. "And this is my, uh, squire Pendric."

Penelope nodded in greeting.

"We must beg your hospitality for the time being, Lord Shelton," Dalton said. We're passing through your land on our way south. And very fine land it is—I was just saying to Pendric that this must be an excellent meadow for hunting and fishing in. And other outdoor entertainments, of course."

"Right, that it is, well," Lord Shelton boomed agreeably, "the more the merrier. Won't you join us for our picnic lunch?"

"It would be our pleasure," Dalton murmured, dismounting. "Sorry," he added in a whisper to Penelope as he tossed her his reins and left her to care for all six horses.

She shrugged, feeling it would be impossible to accidentally expose her disguise while she was hidden behind a handful of horses.

Unfortunately, Lady Alba also lingered with the horses so that she could rearrange her hair and adjust the folds of her dress. She smiled dazzlingly when she caught Penelope watching her.

"Aren't you a bold little fellow?"

"Just curious," Penelope croaked, blushing a convincing red from sheer awkwardness.

"So am I." Lady Alba tugged loose a wisp of hair and curled it becomingly around her finger. "How would you describe your knight master?"

"Sharp-tongued and gentle-hearted," Penelope muttered, accidentally thinking of Neal as she pulled yet another saddle off yet another horse. She shrugged, realizing that it could be applied to almost all the men in her life from Byrn to Wyldon.

"Hmmm," her companion mused. "And he wears no ring. So I presume he is not currently engaged to a high-ranking young lady."

Penelope managed to transform her whispered curse into a sneeze. "But for some years now he's devoted all his attentions to one particular young noblewoman, unsuitable though she sometimes seems."

"Well, fortunately she isn't here to see herself displaced." Lady Alba pinched her cheeks to draw out a blush and glanced greedily towards the picnic blanket Dalton was helping her brother spread. "He looks like he has tenderness and wealth enough to share with a wife."

"But you barely know him," Penelope protested.

"That matters little for my purposes," Lady Alba replied, lifting her head in proud awareness of her own beauty.

Penelope shuffled her feet and squared her shoulders, hoping she looked like a love-struck adolescent boy. "Forgive my foolish presumption, your ladyship. But why should a lady so lovely as yourself seem so desperate to be wed. Surely you've suitors aplenty in your own land." She pretended to drop the horse-blanket she was holding, as though startled by her own impudence.

Lady Alba surveyed the squire with something like resignation and forced flirtatious tears into her eyes (much to Penelope's horror.) "And I can never return there." She drew a great heaving breath. "Our parents were traitors—foolish idealists—and when they were caught and executed, my brother and I barely escaped with our lives and our belongings."

Penelope forced up a surprised gasp.

Alba twitched her lips bitterly. "We'd face death or utter disdain if we ever returned home." She sighed. "So I must marry here. And soon, so as to be secure in case my idiot brother decides it would be honorable to protest his innocence at home and be killed for his trouble." She reached forward and seized Penelope's arm, pulling her close enough to kiss her cheek.

It was only through a heroic effort that Penelope managed not to cringe. "I think I can promise that my king would not be so heartless as to cast you out simply because you were unattached," she said, slowly extracting herself. _And in any case, _she added to herself, _I'm sure Thayet could find some out-of-favor duffle-brained noble to inflict you upon in cruel and unusual matrimony. _

The foreign lady heaved a grateful sigh and squared her shoulders. "Please accept my gratitude for your kind words and escort me to our dining companions."

Penelope nodded and offered her arm to Lady Alba, walking her towards the picnic and shooting Dalton the sort of that-went-off-without-any-disasters-now-let's-get-out-of-her-before-we-do-anything-to-ruin-it look she hadn't shared with him since their last etiquette examination as pages.

Dalton nodded discretely at her and turned back to his conversation with Afzal, who seemed friendly and intelligent enough even if his interests were limited to falconry and food.

"So," Lord Shelton said, turning to Penelope, "what do you think of the changes the king's made to your training in recent years?"

Penelope blinked at him and then remembered that she was a boy and a squire and that, therefore, Lord Shelton would think it only polite and natural to start up a conversation with her.

"Well," she began, forcing her voice to crack so that Dalton had to bite down a grin, "it is quite innovative. And I'm sure every lad says this, but I really do feel my training has me well-prepared for fighting. We've learned to stay on our toes, sir."

"But surely," Alba interjected, launching herself at Dalton with fluttering eyelashes, "your squire has not given your kind guidance enough credit." She squeezed his forearm. "That seems most unjust."

"Erm." Dalton helped Lady Alba to a seat on a log and extricated himself as quickly as possible to fetch her a plate of food. "I have faith that I'll eventually win my squires' full appreciation."

Penelope snorted. Fortunately Lord Shelton had just finished sharing a humorous anecdote with her.

Lady Shelton spent the afternoon nibbling on biscuits and sketching wildflowers. Lord Shelton spent it giving Penelope a well-intentioned lecture on strategy, to which she listened with half an ear. Afzul tucked away a large plate of chicken and spoke openly about his flight from Carthak, earning Penelope and Dalton's trust, if not their respect. Alba tried to win herself a husband in an afternoon, while Dalton put considerable effort into politely fending off her flirtation.

PDPD

"So," Penelope said as soon as they had exchanged farewells with their hosts and ridden safely out of earshot.

Dalton sighed in agreement. "We simply aren't cut out to be spies."

"And we aren't subjecting ourselves to that again."

"Ever," Dalton added. "No matter what sort of bribery or blackmail George uses to induce us."

They didn't bother riding the rest of the way to Pirates' Swoop, but camped by the sea shore when sunset arrived. Dalton, who wanted to restore his peace of mind with a little manual labor, waved away Penelope's help with the horses.

Penelope shrugged, stripped off her uncomfortable disguise, and went swimming in her own body, and nothing else. The water was cool after the dull heat of the afternoon and she returned feeling far less irritated and far more human.

"I thought you were eager to be out of men's clothing," Dalton remarked as she pulled on one of his shirts and rifled through their packs for a pair of clean trousers.

"I'll abandon the concept entirely for the evening," Penelope informed him, with a smile he found far more subtle and alluring than Alba's, "as soon as you do." She pulled on a pair of trousers (her own) and came to take over cooking their simple bean soup.

Dalton kissed her cheek, tugged her hair out of the severe tail she'd kept it in all day, went to wash his hands before they ate.

"I hope you weren't jealous this afternoon," Dalton teased as they ladled soup into bowls.

"Not at all." Penelope blew on her first spoonful. "She kissed me first."

Dalton spluttered. "You have my profound sympathy." Then he shook his head, grinning thoughtfully. "I suppose she does have rather excellent taste."

Penelope scooted closer until she was pressed against his side. "Or an indiscriminate appetite."

"For awkwardness." Dalton smirked.

"I've no idea how she did it," Penelope remarked as they cleaned up after their meal.

"Simple, selfish, obliviousness," Dalton muttered, wiping out the cooking pot.

"I mean Alanna," Penelope said quietly.

"Oh. Absolute dedication, supportive friends, divine assistance, and unbelievable good luck." Dalton took the dishes she passed him, planting a quick kiss on her collarbone before he knelt to stow the bowls away. "I'm afraid you've only got the first two, so you should probably stick to being yourself."

Penelope nodded and helped him spread a blanket on the sand. "The hardest part," she added, stretching out beside him, "was how easy it was."

Dalton blinked. "You mean…" he traced a hand over her modest curves.

Penelope laughed and trapped his fingers against her ribs. "No—the acting and the appearing were difficult enough. I mean being a boy—meeting Lord Shelton and just having his respect without having to earn it."

"Oh." Dalton kissed her thoughtfully. "But you usually skip that step and go straight to earning peoples' admiration once you've gotten their attention. You'd be bored if you'd been born a boy."

"So might you," Penelope murmured, stretching an arm over his chest, "especially on this particular occasion."

_So, hope you've enjoyed. I'll try to get the next chapter up sooner and we'll hear from some opinionated guests: _

"It is absolutely implausible," Grania remarked. "Even for an epic. No one can scream for three days straight, let alone scream that long and then manage to sing sweetly enough to seduce her handsome rescuer."


	20. Critical

_Many thanks to those who reviewed the last chapter! Also, many apologies for the long hiatus—I've been frantically filling out job applications and wishing I could add fanfic writer to my resume…Anyway, this chapter begins a day after the previous chapter (in which the gang arrived at the Swoop and George asked Penelope and Dalton to do him a favor) and follows bits and pieces of the next several weeks or so. Enjoy! _

Dalton's sisters were waiting in the courtyard with his squires when the two knights returned to the Swoop after their ill-fated (or at least unpleasantly awkward) attempt at spying.

"So Penelope," Grania greeted her sister-in-law, "just why has George bet me a considerable sum that you'll be particularly amenable to trying on a dress this afternoon?"

"Because he's a shrewd, cunning, manipulative—" Penelope abruptly ran out of adjectives when she saw that Dalton was practically swallowing his lower lip in an effort to keep from laughing.

"Null and void, my dear," George informed Grania. "Undue influence."

"Not at all," She protested. "Informed decisions are always more interesting."

"In that case," Byrn muttered. "I'd be curious to know exactly which behaviors are to be interpreted as particularly amenable."

"No more than one serious and two token protests," Alanna calculated. "At least one voluntary twirl. And a maximum of four grimaces. Presuming of course that there are no corsets to complain about."

"There aren't," Grania promised.

Penelope sighed. "It's up to you then. Would you rather have George's gold or the satisfaction of seeing me in one of your creations?"

Grania turned to George. "There's your predictable perversity."

PDPD

After a bit of thoughtful negotiation, Penelope wound up wearing a simple brown gown (which, to her surprise—and as Grania and Vina had predicted—brought out the gold in her hair) down to supper. No money changed hands between George and Grania, but Rissa and Byrn traded several kisses while they were waiting and Selena and Arielle exchanged a few wry smiles while trying not to stare. Dalton and Penelope both thanked Grania as they helped her down the stairs, but she only nodded modestly and turned a contemplative eye towards Alanna's customary violet silk.

After supper, they all retired to the sitting room, where Arielle pulled _The Emperor's Ivory Tower_ from the bookshelf and found that Neal had subtitled it _an unlikely epic of utterly impossible events. _

"It is absolutely implausible," Grania remarked. "Even for an epic. No one can scream for three days straight, let alone scream that long and then manage to sing sweetly enough to seduce her handsome rescuer."

"And she's an idiot," Arielle added. "If I were locked in a tower, I'd yell just long enough to be sure there wasn't any help in shouting distance. Then I'd get really quiet and start thinking about how to get down without being noticed by the guards."

"Or," Selena said thoughtfully, "I suppose one could try screaming to convince the guards that the tower was on fire or under attack and then use the diversion to…"

"I still don't see why he wrote all this," Dalton muttered. "I mean it all makes perfect cynical sense, but wasn't he a bit of a romantic when it came to poetry?"

"And also a rebel," Penelope muttered, recalling a few stories Neal had told her after a few drinks during a rainy evening they'd spent at an inn.

"Huh."

"He wanted to prove he was reading," Penelope explained.

"So he stole our books and wrote in them," Alanna finished, "usually while he was supposed to be completing drills or working on particularly tedious chores."

"And thereby left his literary criticism behind for posterity," George added, with a hint of pride, since he'd been the one who'd taught Neal how to slip out of Alanna's gaze.

PDPD

There was time for a great deal of literary analysis during their weeks at the Swoop. Penelope fell into a rhythm of morning drills with Dalton and the twins and afternoon chats with Grania and Selena (often while Vina coached Arielle at archery and Rissa and Byrn disappeared for rides along the beach). It was only after Dalton's sisters departed that Penelope began to listen to Vina and Selena's quiet prompting and plan for their return journey.

"You can always come back," Alanna reminded her as they said goodbye.

"And if you don't do so voluntarily," George warned, scratching Bandit's ears,"I'll happily resort to blackmail. Or accept Mindelan's request to hold a training camp here."

Penelope rolled her eyes, but smiled and spent the days of their ride home wondering where her urge to wander had gone. She was content with her life at the palace and she'd been happy with her month at the Swoop, but she didn't feel a strong pull to go exploring elsewhere. Had she outgrown her restlessness or was she simply capable of being happy anywhere? At least, so long as she was with people who felt like family.

It was, she decided, a conversation to have with Neal. But one that could wait as it was nearly dark by the time they rode through the palace gates.

PDPD

Selena hurried to the smithy as soon as she'd seen to her horse, trying not to read too much into Jeck's absence in the stables. After all, he hadn't know when exactly to expect her return and he didn't always greet her there, just often enough that she'd grown accustomed to it…

The smithy was empty, almost deserted looking. The cooling forges and Jason's bubbling stewpot were the only signs of recent activity. Selena swallowed, deposited her bags in the room she shared with Jeck, and sat down on the stairs, trying to imagine where the smiths might have disappeared to.

Suddenly, the door slid open and Selena was attacked, affectionately, by an exuberantly barking, slobbering, and licking Shadow (who seemed to have grown a good six inches in the last month).

"Hey!" Selena muttered, pushing half-heartedly at the dog's chest.

"Hey yourself." Strong fingers gripped Selena's arm and pried her off the stairs. She was secure in Jeck's embrace, her feet just dangling off the ground, before she'd even had the chance to see his face.

"Missed you," he murmured.

"Mmmph," she agreed, burying her face against his neck.

"Sorry," he added, rubbing her back. "I didn't think you'd get back quite so soon. We've been working with Wyldon and Raoul—finishing the prototype for a military 'thieves' dagger'—the king just approved it this afternoon."

Selena smiled and kissed his chin—he still hadn't set her down and Shadow was leaping excitedly about her legs. "Good, I—"

Jason interrupted before she could finish congratulating him. "You've no trouble sending her away to face who-knows-what monsters, but she needs to be rescued from a harmless hound."

"Nice to see you too," Selena muttered at him over Jeck's shoulder, too distracted by Jeck's fingers running through her hair to be insulted by his friend. "Even if you just want to know how soon I'll be available to wash your dishes."

"No, really." Jason pulled her away from Jeck and hugged her briefly before leaving her sandwiched between Jeck and Shadow. "I'm glad you're back. Do you have any idea how depressing it is to watch someone throw himself into his work when his heart isn't entirely in it?" he demanded.

"The watching must be worse than the actual throwing." Jeck chuckled, but he pulled Selena close again, tucking her under his chin.

PDPD

"You shouldn't have given me such a homecoming," Selena told him the next morning as she propped herself up on one elbow. Jason had baked a cake and refused to let her clean up. And, though they'd all been up late, Jeck had insisted that they sleep in until midmorning. "It might encourage me to go away more often—"

"If only for the purpose of coming home again," Jeck finished for her, reaching out to tweak her nose. "Which is the important part. And you can't do the one without the other. "

"I suppose not." Selena blinked somewhat guiltily, remembering Jason's half-joking accusation the day before. "Really? You didn't mind my leaving?"

"No." He kissed her cheek and grinned with serious mischief.

She raised her eyebrows, wondering whether she ought to be slightly offended.

"Missing," he murmured, tracing her eyebrows with his nose, "is not the same as minding. And you would have been miserable if you'd stayed here after Wyldon suggested that you go."

"And you wouldn't have gotten as much work done," she teased. "How is Wyldon, by the way?"

"Well." Jeck smirked. "He nodded at me the other day and I got the unnerving idea that he was proud of me. Not that either of us will ever admit it."

PDPD

Penelope's first opportunity for a lengthy conversation with Neal came three weeks after their return to the palace, but it arrived under highly distracting (not to mention distressing) circumstances.

Penelope was training with Vina when she heard Rissa's sword go clattering across the next court. For the sixth time in as many minutes.

"Just how late were you out last night?" Dalton asked, not entirely keeping the exasperation from his voice.

"Not very," Rissa muttered. "Ask Vina."

"She got in before I did," Vina agreed, the effort of speaking apparently distracting her so much that she tripped and fell.

Penelope swallowed to keep from sighing. "Look, we've given you the freedom to conduct your personal lives as you see fit"—and, until now, Penelope had thought they were exercising prudent restraint and admirable discretion in their love lives—"but if it's interfering with your training, then—"

"And we were both asleep by the pages' curfew," Vina added, struggling to her feet.

"In that case," Dalton began, irritably aware that he and Penelope had been up late supervising Mindelan's children while she and Dom attended a meeting, "you ought to be—"

Rissa interrupted him by dropping to her knees and vomiting.

Penelope put together the unexplained fatigue and the morning vomiting and came to the horrible suspicion that her squire might be pregnant. Unfortunately, this alarming thought kept her from noticing that Vina was swaying on her feet.

Only Bandit's sudden bark made her turn around in time to catch Vina as she fell in a dead faint. The squire's skin was burning and her breath was shallow. By this time Rissa seemed too disoriented to notice her sister's condition.

"Here," Dalton muttered, wrapping an arm around Rissa and helping her walk to Penelope. "Trade you." He scooped Vina into his arms while Penelope supported Rissa, who was nearly as warm as her twin. "Infirmary?" he grunted. All Vina's lean muscle had gone to heavy deadweight.

"Immediately," Penelope agreed.

PDPD

Neal gestured them towards the nearest available beds as they entered and made a cursory examination of Rissa's face as soon as Penelope had deposited her.

"The Fever," he pronounced tersely, in the same grimly resigned tone of voice one might use to discuss 'The Healer's Ordeal'—if such a thing existed. And then he nudged Rissa into sleep. The lack of commentary, Penelope knew, did not bode well.

"Sir?" Penelope sat down on the foot of Rissa's bed.

Neal glanced at his former squire—and her husband, who sat beside her, one hand resting on her shoulder—and decided not to ask them to leave. He might as well save his energy for the real fight.

"It sweeps through Corus and the castle every five years or so. Some years the cases are milder than others. This isn't one of them. These two are the twentieth—and twenty-first—"he added, wishing there wasn't any need for such a count—and worst cases to be reported this month. I've five other patients in the next room and know of several in town."

"Should we move them there?" Dalton asked.

Neal shook his head. "Only one bed left in that room and I think it best to keep them together. There isn't any magical cure—we just have to treat the symptoms and wait it out."

"How long?" Penelope asked.

Neal cleared his throat. "The patients that survive the first day usually recover fully within a week—though they need several days of rest after that before resuming their usual activities. The fever hasn't left anyone with lasting damage since—"

"The year Grania got it," Dalton finished bluntly.

Neal nodded and Penelope wrapped her hand around Dalton's knee.

"Should we contact their parents?" Penelope asked.

"Just inform Kel. And only Kel for now—we healers like to handle these things quietly to avoid panics and so far this has been a mild outbreak. Anyway, they—hopefully—they'll be out of the woods in the time it would take to get a message to the Lantons."

"I'll go tell Mindelan," Dalton offered, standing up.

"And when he gets back," Penelope informed Neal as Dalton left, "you'll tell us what we can do to help."

"Pull off their tunics and start sponging their faces." Neal passed her a pair of damp cloths without waiting for Dalton's return. "I'm only allowing this because I think you've had it before," he added.

"What does—"

"Nobody seems to get it twice—Numair has a theory regarding the immuno—"

Penelope yawned widely.

"Anyway, I think you and Dalton both had mild cases during your last year as pages." Neal stalked through his shelves pulling down jars of herbs to blend. "So you should be safe. Even though it apparently never occurred to you to worry about yourself."

Penelope twitched her lips repentantly. "What about—"

"I've also already been exposed," he assured her before allowing himself an exasperated sigh.

Dalton stepped back in and Neal shoved a pestle into his hand and pointed to the herbs he needed ground. Then he came to help Penelope tickle water down the squires' throats. "When I told you that you deserved a squire who'd give you a few good scares." I didn't mean that I wished to witness said scares."

"But sir," Penelope protested, "you didn't specify any orders regarding bad scares."

Dalton frowned thoughtfully at the herbs he was grinding. "And what exactly, if I may ask, are the criteria for differentiating between good and bad scares?"

PDPD

For most of the afternoon and evening, Penelope kept trying to encourage the twins to drink water and trying not to think about the frequency with which they called her name during their nightmares. Dalton ground up everything Neal set before him and— once he learned the herbal formula for the mixture—kept working even when Neal went to check on his patients in the next room.

"I don't—"Penelope muttered as she wiped Vina's chin. "I can't believe this. They were doing so well yesterday."

Dalton nodded and swallowed guiltily. "We shouldn't have pushed them so hard this morning," he muttered.

"We didn't know."

Dalton shook his head. "We should have realized—I should have seen that something was off."

"You did." Penelope checked to be sure both girls were breathing evenly, set down her cloth, and walked over to wrap her hand around Dalton's elbow. "And I yelled at them for staying out late. Because we didn't recognize—"

"Exactly—"Dalton shook free of her hold and continued grinding, though he already had a fine powder under his pestle—"we didn't realize we should be rushing them here until it was almost too late and now—"

"We're doing all we can," Penelope said, pushing him into the armchair beside Neal's desk and dropping into his lap to keep him from springing up immediately. "They'll have to be okay," she whispered, settling her head on his shoulder to further discourage him from plunging irritably back to work. "Sometimes sickness just happens. Even if there isn't any way to stop it—even if I hate the fact that I can't just hack its head off—it isn't our fault."

Dalton looked at her for a long moment before nodding. Then he lifted his fingers to her cheek.

"Queenscove," he muttered, as Neal stepped back in. "She's being uncharacteristically reasonable and her faces feels warm."

Neal ruffled her hair. "She's fine."

Penelope rolled her eyes, but stretched suddenly alarmed fingers towards Dalton's forehead.

"So's he," Neal added. "Just chronically conscientious. But you've known that for years. It didn't stop you from marrying him."

By this time, they'd vacated the chair, Dalton returning to herb-blending and Penelope to face-wiping.

"But you both ought to have a break and a bite to eat. You aren't immune to exhaustion and overtiring yourselves won't do them any good…"

But the discovery that the twins were now chilled—"a good sign", Neal informed them—and the ensuing scramble for blankets and hot bricks gave them an excellent opportunity to disregard his advice.

PDPD

When he returned from a stint in the next room several hours later, Neal wasn't at all surprised to find them both asleep in his chair. He was rather surprised, given the awkward angle of Dalton's neck and the fact that Penelope's legs were draped over one chair-arm, that they were comfortable enough to sleep. They even managed to look peaceful, inviting comparison to the works of romantic poets.

But eventually pity—and a territorial longing for his own chair—motivated him to nudge Penelope awake.

"Aren't you getting a little old for this?"

"We're married," she muttered, stretching. "We can do what we want." Then she winced as she tried to stand. "But my back might concede your point."

"There are any number of available beds," Neal remarked.

"Only six," Penelope countered, heaving Dalton upright. "Leaving out Vina and Rissa's."

With Neal's help, she shifted Dalton—who didn't so much as stir—onto the nearest empty cot. She pulled off his boots and tucked a blanket over him before shuffling over to check on the twins and sponge their faces clean. Then she pulled off her own boots and—with a glance at Neal, who was already dozing his reclaimed chair—slipped into bed beside Dalton and tucked herself under his arm.

As soon as Penelope had made herself comfortable enough to close her eyes, Rissa coughed loudly and croaked a plea for water.

Barely suppressing her instinctive moan, Penelope sat up, spun out of Dalton's arms, and scrambled for a cup.

Neal chuckled sympathetically. "You should try having children," he told her.

She was too busy being drooled upon to answer before Neal was summoned back into the other room.

PDPD

Penelope watched and watered the twins—chatting with them when they were lucid and waiting with baited breath when they weren't— for hours while Dalton slept. It was only when he woke, wrapped an arm about her, escorted her to his bed, kissed her, and whispered that she was to rest while he watched them that Penelope realized how tired she was.

It was late morning when she woke to find the twins sleeping peacefully, Dalton slumped at the foot of the cot, and Neal arguing with someone at the door. Penelope smiled at the squires, and then crawled forward to rub Dalton's shoulders and overhear Neal's attempt to dissuade his assailants.

"I don't believe that would be advisable," Neal said.

"But I've had it before." That voice was Byrn's, Penelope realized. "And I've heard—"

"I should like to know how either of you has heard anything regarding—"

"I'm common-born," Karyna—it took Penelope a moment to make out her voice—interrupted him shortly. "So I've cousins in the kitchens and the laundry. They supply your infirmary and they see things and hear things. And tell things to concerned parties. And I don't share your noble, knightly need to pretend you're above such common gossip. Which is why I know where Vina is."

"And she was kind enough to keep me informed," Byrn added. "How are they?

"They've turned the corner," Neal assured him.

"All the more reason to allow visitors," Byrn said.

"All the more reason to wait patiently," Neal countered.

"What if we bring breakfast?" Karyna asked.

Dalton's growling stomach broke the long silence that followed this offer and he wondered what had happened to Neal's romantic sensibilities and why Penelope had stopped rubbing his shoulders.

"I've already eaten," Neal informed them.

"I haven't," Dalton called.

The twins stirred slightly and their hopeful visitors shoved their heads through the door.

"Don't let him fool you," Dalton added on the premise that he was already in hot water and might as well add soap. Penelope brushed her nose against the back of his neck, inspiring him to continue. "He's only pretending to be an insensitive, overly-cautious healer. He really does know that people sometimes need particular company to persuade them to recover."

"And that we'll want you on our side when it comes to convincing them to stay in bed," Penelope added, beginning to rub Dalton's shoulders again.

Neal glanced back at both of them. "Given your terrible track record—

"Two whole days and I caught her and carted her straight to you when she got up too soon and collapsed in the corridor," Dalton protested.

"--that might be a valid point," Neal continued through gritted teeth.

"Well?" Byrn stepped one foot through the infirmary door, but wisely made no protest when Neal nudged him out again.

"When should we come back?" Karyna demanded.

"Two hours," Neal muttered. "And bring back a basket of food." Then he shut the door and added, "she's awfully good at giving blazing and pleading looks for a girl who isn't interested in men," Neal muttered.

"She is," Dalton agreed. "I think that's what makes her so good at it."

Penelope glared ineffectually at both of them and then drew up the blankets and went back to sleep.

PDPD

Dalton nudged Penelope out of her second nap as Byrn and Karyna slipped into the infirmary. "Think they'll be able to tell them apart?" he whispered, glancing at the twins beneath their identical blankets.

Karyna and Byrn seemed to share this concern because they both paused several paces short of the beds and smiled sheepishly at one another.

Finally Karyna lifted her hands and turned slightly, sorting out left and right. Then she nudged Byrn towards one of the beds. "That's Rissa," she told him, sitting down at the foot of the other.

Byrn frowned skeptically and glanced at Dalton and Penelope for confirmation, but the two knights kept their faces impassive. Indeed, Penelope herself couldn't quite remember which twin they'd put where.

Karyna rolled her eyes. "Vina doesn't sleep on her right side." Indeed, this seemed to be the only difference between them as Vina was sleeping on her left and Rissa on her right.

"How do you know how she sleeps?" Byrn demanded.

Karyna took Vina's hand and fixed Byrn with a pert gaze before deflating his sense of scandal. "She had her right arm sliced open; she's told me it aches when she lies on it too long."

Dalton hadn't known this; Vina wasn't the sort to make casual complaints. He caught Karyna's eye and she shrugged as though to say _isn't-that-like-her. _

Penelope meanwhile was watching Rissa wake up and take in her surroundings and grab Byrn's hand.

"I take it we aren't in trouble then," she said, her voice waking her twin.

"Well," Vina murmured sleepily, "we do appear to be in the infirmary."

"And on the mend," Neal added, in a tone which threatened dire consequences if they did not maintain this appearance. But he smiled at all six of them before biting into a cheese-and-apple pastry from Karyna's basket.

PDPD

Neal beckoned Penelope over to his desk as soon as he'd finished eating.

"You and Dalton were a great help last night," he told her, "but you can go now—get some time on the practice courts, some rest in your own bed, a real meal." He added the last as Penelope grabbed an apple and a hunk of bread from the basket.

"I shouldn't," Penelope muttered around a mouthful of bread.

"I should also thank you for furthering one of my pet theories."

Penelope raised an eyebrow and bit into her apple.

"Not only do healers make the worst patients, but the worst patients can turn into the best healer's assistants in a pinch." Neal smirked at her and she smirked back. "I'm now certain that this because we're all stubborn-verging-on-stupid and especially good at ignoring ourselves for others."

"I guess they don't really need us at this point," Penelope conceded, her throat tightening as she glanced back at the twins. They were both drifting back to sleep, Byrn and Karyna sitting at their sides.

Neal shook his head. "You've another year left, by my count." He grasped her shoulder. "And we both know it won't end then."

"No, sir." Penelope stubbornly attributed her tears to lack of exercise. She was ready to rip something apart.

"So, you might as well get the fresh air you need before your restlessness drives the rest of us mad." Neal glanced pointedly at her tapping feet.

"I was beginning to worry I'd lost it," Penelope confessed.

"No," Neal told her. "Just your skittishness. You've learned to stand still long enough to live with other people. It doesn't mean you don't need to roam about on occasion. Only do come back when you've finished—preferable sometime before supper. I suspect those two might make superior healer's assistants someday."

Penelope grinned as she beckoned Dalton. "Mightn't they?"

_So, thanks for reading and reviewing! I'll try to have the next chapter up faster so that the twins can bewilder the world again…_

Vina squeezed Byrn's hand. "Good luck."

He nodded, kissed her temple, and glanced pointedly at Rissa—who'd so far refrained from stepping over to say goodbye—to indicate that he meant the kiss for her twin. Then he pulled Vina into a friendly hug. "Good luck yourself."

Vina nodded and stepped back. "I can manage one more year."

He nodded. "Take care of her."

Vina forced a smile. "Always."


	21. Noble

_Many thanks to everyone who reviewed the last chapter! I made time to get this update out faster (and I'm pretending this has nothing to do with the fact that I've got a thirty page paper I should be working on…) This chapter takes place about six weeks after the last one and contains characters and a castle belonging to Tamora Pierce—Enjoy!_

"I think you've recovered," Byrn muttered as he picked up both their swords, which had gone clattering across the court.

Rissa nodded. She was breathing hard, but then so was he.

"And about time," Vina added, without pulling her eyes away from her own fight with Selena.

"Do you mind taking a walk?" Byrn asked as he passed back her sword. "I'd like a word."

Rissa swallowed and nodded. He took her hand and started for the pastures, but did not speak until they were halfway down the fence.

"My Ordeal is in a little less than a month," he began.

Rissa nodded—she'd been counting the days herself—and squeezed his hand.

"My father has requested that I return home immediately afterwards," he continued.

"Has he told you why?" she asked. _Have they found someone they want you to marry?_ She wanted to ask.

He shook his head. "I—when I kissed you last midwinter—"he paused—"I wouldn't have done that if I hadn't been free to. As far as I know, I'm still free."

"Good," Rissa whispered, tilting her face towards his for a kiss.

Byrn kept his fingers against her cheek afterwards. "But, my father's getting older. He expects me to learn how to run the estate. I don't know how long it will be before I can come back again." He dropped his hand to her shoulder and gently pushed her back a step. "It might be a few years."

Rissa nodded, trying to ignore the sinking in her stomach. "I'll wait."

He frowned. "I don't want you to have to."

The sudden pounding in her heart was harder to ignore, but Rissa shrugged bravely. "Well, we have almost a month." She stepped back into his arms.

Byrn kissed her thoroughly and then reluctantly pulled away, though he kept his arms wrapped around her. "I mean I might not—my parents might have a marriage in mind. I don't want you to waste years of your life waiting for someone who won't return."

"I wouldn't consider them wasted," she murmured. "Especially if you came ba—"

"I can't make any promises," he said. Then he glanced at the darkening sky. "It's getting late. I should walk you home."

Rissa kept a firm grip on his hand instead of protesting that she didn't need an escort. "I don't need a betroth—"

Byrn tapped her lips with one finger to silence. "I need to know—even, especially, if I'm under an obligation to make a marriage alliance—that your heart is free to love as you wish."

"It isn't." Rissa swallowed. "It's a little late for that. I think I already love you."

"I'm sorry," he said, his lips twitching enough that she could tell he was lying. "Me too," he added hoarsely.

"So," she said lightly, "if you're stuck marrying someone else, how do you feel about having a mistress?"

His laugh came out in a short, bitter snort. "How do you feel," he shot back, "about considering someone else?"

"Stalemate," she said. And this time they both managed to laugh.

"Well," he said as they started down the corridor towards the room she shared with Vina. "We have month to renegotiate."

Only they didn't, because the girls had a guest standing beside their door.

PDPD

"Great Aunt Angraine is here," Vina said unnecessarily. She gestured to the rail-thin, grey-haired woman who stood beside her wearing a deep purple dress and an even deeper frown.

"A young lady ought not to wander about with escorts unfamiliar to her family," Angraine admonished.

"I am Squire Byrn, son of the Baron of Briarwood," Byrn said, bowing. "Squire Larissa and I are just returning from the practice courts. You must congratulate your niece—she's a most talented swordswoman."

Rissa would have kissed him if Angraine hadn't been there. Which, she realized, made no sense because she wanted to kiss him for standing up to her. Then again, Angraine's continued presence and commentary did nothing to dull her affection for him.

"She's terrible at embroidery," Angraine replied. "At least Levina has a decent hand," she continued, tilting her chin towards Vina, who shrugged apologetically at Rissa. Then Angraine frowned at Vina. "Even if her complexion isn't nearly as rosy."

All three squires carefully resisted the urge to point out that Vina and Rissa had identical complexions.

Angraine adjusted her shawl and then glowered at the twins. "Your father isn't well. Your parents have been worried about your recent illness. You're wanted at home for midwinter. We'll leave tomorrow morning in my carriage. I expect you to have your bags prepared promptly."

"And how are we to return?" Rissa asked, forcing the words out through lips that were numb with despair.

"Your mother," Angraine, who was related on their father's side, answered in a tone that made clear her disapproval of Lady Lanton, "has made arrangements for you to ride back here. Apparently, there are new horses to be gifted to your knight masters in return for their services." She sighed. "I suppose you ought to inform them immediately."

"Of course," Vina agreed.

But no one else made any move to leave. Byrn and Rissa were waiting for Angraine to leave so that they could say a proper goodbye. And Angraine was waiting for Byrn to leave so that she could safely leave the twins unsupervised. Meanwhile, she turned an appraising eye towards Byrn, who still stood beside Rissa.

"You aren't bad-looking"—from Angraine this was a high compliment—"so long as you are eligible for matrimony."

"Uh," said Bryn. Both he and Rissa were burning with memory of their earlier conversation.

"He's done a great deal for our family," Vina put in.

Byrn grinned gratefully. Angraine turned her scrutiny towards Vina.

"And you, Levina? I've heard from my cousins that you spend a great deal of time among the Queen's Riders. It's all very well to attempt to educate and enlighten lower class young women whose acquaintance you might make, but I do hope you haven't taken up with an unsuitable young man. That would be most disappointing."

"I can promise you I haven't," Vina said shortly.

"Well, perhaps you can be introduced to some third or fourth sons from the neighboring estates during your visit home. I'm sure they wouldn't mind a girl of your unusual background."

"Perhaps," Vina said evenly. Though both Rissa and Byrn suspected that she might have liked to finish with something along the lines of _the gods will answer my prayers and your mouth will be sewn shut. _

"In any case," Rissa interrupted, tugging at Byrn's hand and grabbing Vina's. "We'll be off now to speak with our knight masters."

Byrn held Rissa's hand until they reached the corridor where Penelope and Dalton lived. Then he pulled her aside and kissed her. "I'll come by your room later," he promised. "We'll talk."

_What about? _Rissa wondered bitterly.

PDPD

"I see," Penelope said when Vina had finished explaining Great Aunt Angraine's unexpected arrival (to visit relatives and relay their parents' request) and her unappreciated meddling. "How can we get you out of going?"

Rissa's heart leapt momentarily before her sister's reluctant pragmatism weighed it down.

"I'm afraid that won't be possible." Vina stared glumly at their floor as she spoke. "Father still controls our…money—"

"and everything really," Rissa continued, "until we come of age or marry. He could keep us from trying for our shields if he really wants."

"Wyldon and Mindelan won't let him do that," Dalton put in.

"I know." Vina nodded gratefully, but continued, "and Angraine has a great deal of influence over him."

"Especially if he's ill," Rissa added. She swallowed. "We'll have to go back and remind him why he wanted to get rid of us this way in the first place."

Vina sighed. "I suppose it will be nice to spend some time with

Mother."

"And she plans to send us back with spares horses for you," Rissa added, reminding herself that this meant they would be coming back—coming back too late.

"Do you want us to come with you?" Penelope asked.

"_We _do," Vina said. "But Aunt Angraine didn't include you in her invitation."

Penelope nodded. She understood about aunts. "Alright then. Try to practice with each other and when you come back we'll…" she caught sight of Rissa's grimace and rushed to wrap an arm around her as her face crumpled with unhappiness. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing anyone can do anything about," Rissa muttered, burying her face against Penelope's shoulder.

"Not even Byrn?"

"It's my gods-cursed luck. He'll be gone—home—by the time we're back. I thought we'd have another month to…sort ourselves out, but now…"

Penelope knew better than to say anything. She simply smoothed back Rissa's hair.

Vina, meanwhile, had stepped over to Dalton and whispered, so as not to disturb her sister. "Would you mind telling Karyna where we've gone?"

"As soon as she gets in," he promised, squeezing her left shoulder. "Leave a letter if you like."

Vina tried to smile and sigh simultaneously. "I'm not sure there'll be time."

PDPD

The twins had almost finished packing when Byrn knocked on their door and Rissa rushed to answer it. He was sweaty and windblown from several hours on the archery court and he stared at Rissa for a long while without saying anything.

Vina stood up and tied her bag shut. "I can leave," she said quickly, but she made no move to do so until Rissa caught her eye. "Do you want me to find someplace else to sleep?" she added matter-of-factly.

Rissa hesitated.

Byrn glanced down at her pack. "No," he said finally, apparently addressing Vina. "I don't mean to disrupt your evening for long."

"You aren't—" Rissa began, but he held up a hand to stop her.

"Rissa," he said, taking her hand. "You spent a long time convincing me you weren't breakable. I hope your heart isn't either."

Rissa sighed and thought that he might have a point. 'Breakable' didn't seem to be quite the right word for something that felt like it was dissolving into shreds inside her.

"What about yours?" she asked.

"Don't worry about it." He squeezed her hand. "I'll say goodbye now," he added, brushing his lips over her forehead.

"Just go," she muttered angrily.

And then he was gone.

PDPD

Rissa and Vina were at the palace gates early the next morning, awaiting their aunt's carriage. Penelope and Dalton hugged them both and then stood by while Bandit sniffed at their bags. Byrn trotted up a few minutes later, but hesitated about ten paces from the twins. Vina glanced at Rissa's unyielding frown and then walked over to meet him.

"I wanted to wish both of you farewell."

Vina squeezed Byrn's hand. "Good luck."

He nodded, kissed her temple, and glanced pointedly at Rissa—who'd so far refrained from stepping over to say goodbye—to indicate that he meant the kiss for her twin. Then he pulled Vina into a friendly hug. "Good luck yourself."

Vina nodded, knowing what he meant, and stepped back. "I can manage one more year." One more year of polite lying for the court and then she would live and love as she pleased, never mind what her family expected.

He nodded. "Take care of her."

Vina forced a smile. "Always." Then she started back towards Rissa, raising one eyebrow as she approached.

Rissa sighed and then sprinted towards Byrn, who spun around just in time to catch her in his arms.

"So," she said and then kissed him.

"I see," he murmured breathlessly. "But just so we're clear…" he brushed his nose along her cheek and kissed her jaw. "This isn't goodbye."

"Only good luck," she agreed.

"And go-with-my-love," he added, kissing her again.

"And please come back again."

"I'll try." He reached down and found her hand, twining his fingers through hers. "But what I said earlier still holds."

She scowled. "So does my plan to ignore it entirely."

"I thought I'd taught you something about moving on." He brushed away the tears trailing down her cheeks.

She tilted her chin. "Maybe you taught me something more."

"Maybe," he whispered, pulling her close again so that he could hold her until her aunt's carriage rattled up and they heard her name shouted.

Rissa shot Byrn one final stricken look and then darted into the carriage and buried her head in Vina's lap.

Vina settled one hand lightly on Rissa's hair and lied smoothly to Angraine. "Closed carriages have never agreed with her."

PDPD

Penelope marched through the pages' morning drills and sat through an afternoon meeting on ongoing training for adult knights. Then she and Dalton accepted Mindelan's invitation to a small dinner with her family, as well as Wyldon, Neal, and Selena.

"I'm sorry about your squires being stolen away for the holidays," Mindelan told them.

"It's—"Penelope began, but she couldn't think of an adjective that was both adequate and polite. Her thoughts kept stumbling over the word 'stolen'.

"I've already written their father," Wyldon assured them, "to remind him how much he's already invested in their training and explain that we absolutely expect them back at the end of the month."

"Thank you, sir," Dalton said, gamely pretending not to notice that Kefira, who sat at his left, was pushing her unwanted turnips onto his plate. "We appreciate your support."

Wyldon cleared his throat in acknowledgement. "The only advantage is that it leaves you available to assist if anything goes wrong during any of this year's ordeals. And to assist Lord Brandon as he instructs Byrn in the Code of Chivalry."

Dalton, who was in the process of giving Kefira his extra carrots, was startled enough to drop his fork on her plate. He hastily picked it up and said, "sir?" He was not well-acquainted with Lord Brandon

"He wrote me yesterday asking me to recommend a suitable candidate for the job." Wyldon's lips twitched briefly in something like a smile. "I assume you don't mind wheeling his chair down to the baths either."

"I'd be honored of course but—"

"Fira," Mindelan interrupted, "did you--"

Kefira straightened before her mother could finish inquiring whether or not she'd tasted her turnips before evading them. "Thank you, sir Dalton, for your kind and chivalrous redistribution of vegetables."

"You are most welcome, Lady Fira," he said, spearing a turnip. Then he turned to Wyldon—who had definitely just smiled—and Kel—who looked like she was trying not to. "Can I add that to the Code?"

"Absolutely," Neal answered for them as he stole a bite of potato from Penelope's plate. "It deserves its own clause."

"Speaking of which." Mindelan turned towards Penelope and Dalton. "Have you two considered your plans for the twins' Ordeals?"

"Erm," Penelope answered. "We've been rather preoccupied with getting them to that point in one piece."

"Perfectly understandable," Dom muttered.

Mindelan nodded. "Quite. I only ask because they'll be facing several irregularities."

Wyldon clear his throat. "Although the majority of the court has accepted the modified bathing procedure for female squires, there are sometimes problems with identical twins. People can be irrationally concerned that one twin will undergo the Ordeal in place of the other. And then there's the fact that they both have two knight masters; certain individuals may insist upon replacing one of you with a 'neutral' party. And there may be other considerations." He sighed.

"So someone"—Mindelan glanced towards Neal—"will need to spend some time researching appropriate precedents. Fortunately, he'll have a whole year to do so."

"That sounds like work." Neal scowled. "I want my old squire back."

"I suppose it is in my best interest." Penelope feigned a long-suffering sigh. "I'll keep him from writing in the library's books."

"Possibly by filling the margins with her own commentary," Neal added.

"And then whose fault will it be for inspiring me?" she asked, snatching a biscuit from his napkin.

PDPD

Penelope tried to enjoy the rest of dinner. But she found her fingers clenching in fury and her breath growing heavy as she followed Dalton back to their room. Bandit's tail wriggling greeting only seemed to make everything worse. She tore at her laces and kicked off her boots so forcefully that they flew halfway across the room.

"Pen?" Dalton murmured, shrugging out of his tunic.

"I do not understand noble families," she hissed, barely away that she was starting to pace.

"Does anyone?" Dalton knelt to scratch Bandit's belly.

"They just farm their children out and fetch their them back again whenever they feel like it. It's like they're pets or breeding stock. Worse even! They can't care about them because they don't know them. And the people who do care can't keep them." She tripped against the bed and slumped into a sitting position.

Dalton reached over and wrapped his fingers around her foot. "It isn't always that way."

"Often enough," she snapped. "Really, what's the point of being parents if you aren't there for—we might as well all be orphans." She stopped and clenched her jaw to keep from sobbing. This worked until Dalton sat beside her and pulled her into his arms.

"Not everyone," he said firmly. "I was happy—mostly—with my mother and siblings anyway. I still am," he added, kissing her cheek. "And if Rissa and Vina have their unhappy moments, at least they aren't alone." He hesitated and cupped the back of her head in his hand. "I'm sorry you were.

"It wasn't your fault," she whispered.

"I still want to undo it," he murmured.

She nodded to show she understood and gave up her effort to still the soundless sobs that seemed to be tearing her apart. Dalton sighed and held her while she shook. He used a corner of their sheet to wipe away her silent tears.

"Are you alright?" he asked once her face had unclenched.

"I don't know." Penelope sniffled and dangled a hand off the bed to bury her fingers in Bandit's fur. "Maybe. I think I'm going to mope a few more minutes if you don't mind."

He ran a hand over her back. "Not at all." They both settled back on the bed, gazing idly at the ceiling. Bandit jumped up and settled between their legs.

"Dalton if we ever…" she swallowed, but he knew what she meant.

"We wouldn't do it that way," he said, squeezing her hand. "I don't think I could."

"I know. Me neither." She smiled. "We don't even have the heart to kick the dog out of bed."

_Erm, so, I hope I haven't increased anyone's midterm misery…I do think things will brighten up in the next chapter:_

"We might even have business in Briarwood." Dalton shrugged. "Don't you have a bit of a bandit problem?"

Byrn grinned. "Well, we wouldn't want to call on the Crown, but it is rather urgent and overwhelming."


	22. Insights

Thanks to everyone who reviewed the last episode (in which the twins found their love lives and life ambitions colliding with familial expectations). This chapter takes place about three weeks later—I can only assume that Penelope hasn't spent the entire interval in bed, though that is where she happens to be reading the twins' letter—and contains characters and a setting belong to Tamora Pierce. Enjoy!

_Dear Penelope,_

_Please don't throw this back in my face, but I realize now that you were right that saving someone's life shouldn't always lead to any kind of romance. You see, I recently rescued one of our guests—a young scholar—from a lone Spidren while we were out riding. And now he follows me everywhere, spewing nonsensical compliments. And he won't stop flirting with me._

_Or me (_Vina had written in green ink so that Penelope could distinguish their basically identical handwriting) _since he can't tell either of us apart. Actually, I'm not sure he knows there are two of us, which doesn't bode well for his scholastic abilities. And he's our fourth cousin—assuming I can count such things—which is yet another reason for Rissa to avoid his overtures. Imagine having children with two heads and only half a brain! _

_It's probably even worse than having a half-brained twin (_Rissa had added.)

_Which, and I speak from experience, generates many headaches over the course of a lifetime. _(Vina's words looked hastily scrawled and Penelope suspected the twins had wrestled over the letter.) _Anyway, Penelope, we're both well. And evading said simple scholar is keeping us quite fit. If all goes well, we expect to start for home two days after midwinter—soon after you get this!_

_By well, she means that we can keep convincing Father we are outspoken and unruly, but not unworthy of financial backing considering that he wishes we'd been born boys. Or possibly boy. I think he'd have settled for one; he has relatively low expectations, unlike our beloved knight masters. _

_Wistfully wishing we were already able to annoy said beloved knight masters in person,_

_Rissa and Vina _(Penelope scrutinized the signatures—it looked like they'd signed each other's names.)

_P.S. _(Vina had added.) _She isn't always this happy, but I think she's really all right. (Even if she sometimes gets there by making three left turns…) _

Penelope snorted and stretched, displacing Dalton, who'd been dozing against her shoulder.

He groaned and then saw her smiling at the letter. "They're in good spirits then?" He kissed her cheek and settled his head back on her shoulder.

"They're up to their old tricks, anyway. But Byrn seems to have raised Rissa's standards. She's rather dissatisfied with her latest conquest."

"I'm not sure I want to know." He lifted his head and glanced reluctantly out the window. Bandit whined and hopped off the bed.

"It's probably time to meet Lord Brandon," Penelope agreed, nudging him out of bed. "I'll come with you."

He nodded and they both pulled on boots for the walk to the courtyard to meet Byrn's knight master.

PDPD

Lord Brandon sat comfortably in his wheeled chair with a thick wool blanket over knees. A servant stood behind him, dressed in the dark green of his home fief, but Byrn was nowhere in sight.

"Where's Byrn?" Dalton asked.

"I was rather hoping you'd have him with you," Lord Brandon answered. He glanced at Penelope. "And is this your—"

"Lady knight Penelope of Proudcreek at your service," she said firmly, stepping forward to offer him her hand. He took it in a surprisingly strong grip and smiled up at her.

"Forgive me for saying so, my dear, but you are rather taller than I expected after all I'd heard about you."

Penelope could have kissed him, until he added, "perhaps it's a matter of perspective."

Dalton grinned at her but stayed focused on the matter at hand. "Should I go look for him?"

Lord Brandon smiled. "Would you? I'm afraid I'm not as good at ferreting him out as I once was." He cast a rueful glance towards his feet. "Perhaps if Lady knight Penelope would be so kind as to begin wheeling me towards the baths I could meet you and Byrn there."

"Of course," Penelope said, she kissed Dalton's jaw, wishing him luck, and grabbed the handles of Brandon's chair.

Dalton trotted away and Penelope started wheeling the chair across the courtyard. She'd already taken a liking to Byrn's knight master, admiring the deft cheer with which he handled his situation.

"It's just Pen or Penelope," she told him.

"I see," he said. "And are you a betting woman, Penelope?"

"It all depends on the circumstances."

"And, under these circumstances, how fast do you think you can make this chair move?" he asked.

Penelope raised an eyebrow. They weren't running late. He just wanted a thrill ride. Clearly Byrn—wherever he was at the moment—had taken after his knight master. She tightened her grip on the handles and burst into a sprint.

PDPD

Byrn was exactly where Dalton had expected him to be—leaning against the fence of one of the pastures where he had often walked with Rissa. He waved at Dalton as he approached but made showed no other signs of moving.

He waited to speak until Dalton had stretched an arm over the fence to scratch a Rider pony.

"I think that's one of Karyna's," he muttered absently. "What will you tell her?"

Dalton took a closer look at the animal and decided Byrn was probably right. It was tall and grey, but its owner was fairly irrelevant at the moment.

Byrn seemed to realize this because he shrugged sheepishly. "Why is this so difficult?"

"If it were easy, it wouldn't be an Ordeal."

"If you were older, you could actually get away with saying something that obvious."

Dalton shrugged. "I'm not the one trying to get out of anything."

"I'm not either," Byrn said quickly. He turned his head away from Dalton. "I'm just—I just don't know what I'm doing. I'm not even sure I want to be a knight anymore." But he started walking towards the palace even as he said this.

"Have you had anything to drink today?" Dalton asked, following him.

"No. Of course not."

"It might have been a good idea." Dalton ran a hand through his hair. "In moderation, I mean."

"It's not that I'm nervous—I mean I am that, but I'm not—"

"not sure how you feel about fulfilling your family's expectations when they don't seem to be offering you much chance of happiness at the moment."

Byrn looked back at Dalton, utterly amazed. "How would you—"

"I chose Penelope," he said simply. "And my father was furious, but just proud enough of my stubbornness that he decided not to disinherit me for it. And then he died without forgiving me—which wasn't really part of the plan—but the rest of the family adores her now."

"Oh." Byrn hesitated. "And what did she think of—"

"She had no family. She warned me not to walk away from mine. But she accepted it as we made our decisions, which"—he glanced pointedly at Byrn—"we would not have done if we hadn't each had the means to support ourselves independently."

"In other words, the Ordeal comes before affairs of the heart."

Dalton smiled. "Exactly, in your case."

"And in Rissa's it might work the other way around?"

"It might." Dalton shrugged. "I'm not her father."

"That might make everything easier."

"I don't think he cares enough to consider the matter. But I wouldn't want anything to stop her from following her heart and her dream of knighthood in whatever order she sees fit. So long as the two aren't mutually exclusive."

Byrn nodded as they approached the temple. "I hope not."

PDPD

Penelope spotted Marcel outside the entrance to the ceremonial baths and might have considered trying to run him down if she hadn't already been exhausted from her long sprint—the chair moved smoothly, but Lord Brandon was not a small man. As it she slowed to a halt and used catching her breath as an excuse not to acknowledge him.

Unfortunately, this gave him the perfect opportunity to step forward and assert his own agenda.

"Good evening, Lord Brandon. It looks like you might need some assistance getting to the ceremonial bathing area to meet your squire."

"I'm quite—" Penelope began.

Marcel ignored her as he continued. "I'd happy to assist you myself to save Lady Penelope the awkwardness of entering the—"

"It's no trouble." Penelope inched the chair forwards. "I've instructed squires in the past." And she'd been instructed herself. And it wasn't as though the ceremonial baths would be occupied or Brandon would be undressing, but Penelope didn't wish to inundate Marcel with information.

Marcel scowled. "And you can be sure some of us find your very presence a grave insult to the sanctity of—"

"Is that why you pretended to be offering me a favor?" Penelope snapped. It was fortunate that she didn't encounter this kind of thinking often; she had little patience for it. "You don't think dishonesty violates any kind of—"

"I think you and your—"

Lord Brandon could clear his throat rather thunderously for an infirm person. Penelope and Marcel both paused in order to figure out how he'd done it.

Lord Brandon, meanwhile, glanced up at Penelope and rolled his eyes impatiently, indicating his own opinion of Marcel. "Would you mind making sure your husband has found my squire?"

Penelope nodded briskly, her sensibility winning out over her pride. "I'll see to it immediately."

"Good, I've a few matters to discuss with Sir Marcel, here."

PDPD

"Is she looking for me?" Byrn asked Dalton when Penelope came hurrying down the path to meet them.

Dalton took a moment to gauge his wife's angry stride before whispering, "no offense, but I don't think you've done anything that drastic today."

"Aren't you worried?" Byrn asked.

Dalton shrugged. "I haven't either." He stretched a hand towards Penelope as she reached them.

She smiled tightly and squeezed his fingers even more tightly. Then she glanced at Byrn. "All set then?"

He nodded nervously.

Dalton nudged him sympathetically. "You can take it at a run if you want."

Penelope patted Byrn's shoulder. "Sometimes it easier that way."

Byrn swallowed and broke into a trot.

Penelope and Dalton followed at a brisk walk.

"Be careful," Penelope muttered. "Marcel met us at the entrance and insisted on wheeling Brandon the rest of the way to keep out my female impurities. He's probably still down there, hoping you won't show up so he can have the honor of instructing Byrn or waiting for you to show up so he can launch an outright atta--."

"Did he try to--" Dalton interrupted automatically.

"He'd be dead," Penelope interrupted him just as automatically.

"And yet you warn me to be careful," he teased.

"Reflex." Penelope shrugged apologetically. "But do try to avoid bloodshed. And come back quickly—or I'll be forced to spend the entire evening praying."

"Don't." He tugged on her braid. "You tend to start insulting them when you're angry. I'd rather you didn't irritate them into incinerating us all."

"Oh, I'm more creative than that." She kissed his cheek. "I'm sure I could summon something worse than divine lightning."

"I shudder to think what."

PDPD

Once he'd finished with Byrn and Brandon, Dalton found Penelope curled in Neal's armchair in the infirmary, cradling an almost empty mug in her hands as she watched Bandit tussle with Neal's bootlaces. Neal had his head buried in a book and his legs stretched out before him and seemed blissfully unaware of the struggle occurring at his feet.

"I would love to know," Dalton began, "what Lord Brandon said to Marcel—"

"I can guess," Neal put in eagerly, pulling his shoes away from Bandit.

"But I don't think he'll be bothering us for a while." Dalton dropped a hand to Penelope's shoulder and she smiled up at him with raised eyebrows.

"Lord Brandon's rather brilliant," Neal agreed. "We had several long conversations while I was saving his life," he explained, when Penelope and Dalton turned to look at him. He scratched Bandit's ears and continued. "Actually he'd probably already heard a lot about the two of you—I had to say something to distract him while I was scouring out his wounds…"

"And we've always been a popular topic for gossip," Penelope agreed, resting her head back against Dalton's chest.

"That's partly your own doing. But, in any case, Brandon's full of insightful perspective and, since he's too injured to be challenged to a duel, he can pretty much say anything he wants." Neal shook his head. "And he knows it, too—just like your dog knows he's cute enough to get away with the wanton destruction of footwear."

"Good boy," Daltom murmured furtively.

"Anyway," Neal said. "He probably just pointed out that it almost appears that Marcel is actually after Dalton in one way or another."

Penelope snorted into her tea.

"Really," Neal said. "One has to wonder why Marcel seems so particularly intent on attacking Dalton's wife."

"He's gone after Selena too," Penelope pointed out.

"But she and I are having sordid affair," Dalton said with a completely straight face.

"Can I watch Jeck pound you to pieces?" Neal asked.

"I'll ask him to schedule his vengeance at a convenient hour for your enjoyment," Dalton promised. Then he frowned in disgust. "He's gone after Rissa too."

"Your squire," Neal pointed out.

"And Gregory's sweetheart." Penelope flinched. "I suppose we shouldn't speculate about the dead, but I did occasionally wonder about those two."

"Come to think of it," Neal said, glancing at Penelope. "Gregory had his own encounters with you before his apparent reformation."

Penelope gazed shrewdly back at her former knight master. "Do you mean to imply that those were all about you?"

"Not by any stretch of the imagination—mine really isn't that flexible," Neal said. "Maybe Marcel just hates you."

"And Rissa and Vina and Selena," Penelope muttered, "all of whom offer a kind of indirect attack at Dalton." She winced sympathetically and squeezed his hand.

"A few minutes ago," Dalton said, sitting down on the floor to scratch Bandit's belly and glare at Neal, "I was happily oblivious. Now I'm not."

Neal nodded. "You can't go back."

"But I don't need to find out whether he wants to kill me or to… maybe we can get away from the suddenly too small palace." Dalton tilted his head back towards Penelope, who grinned in agreement.

Neal flinched, wondering when Kel would realize he was to blame for the apparently imminent disappearance of her assistants.

PDPD

Since his knight master, Lord Brandon, was unable to walk, Byrn shuffled into Dalton's capable grip when he emerged from the Chamber. He was bleeding heavily from a mysterious cut on one arm and Mindelan gave Neal a firm shove in their direction.

"Minor injuries aren't uncommon," Wyldon muttered in a reassuring tone, though he'd cast a hawk-like gaze on the new knight.

"Yes," Dom said, squeezing Kel's elbow, "but she expects the uncommon from her students."

"And they do their best to deliver," Penelope muttered playfully as she followed Neal.

Neal used his gift to stem the flow of blood, bandaged Byrn's arm, and wrapped a blanket around him. "Get him to his bed and get some broth in him to replace the blood he's lost," he advised, letting Penelope step in to support Byrn's other side.

The chapel wasn't particularly crowded and Penelope and Dalton had a relatively easy time ushering the new knight out of it. Byrn began to falter when they reached the courtyard, however, and Karyna (who happened also to be crossing it by carefully calculated coincidence) came up to offer herself as a third arm.

"Congratulations," she told Byrn. "I'm glad you made it."

He blinked. "Me too."

"And—"

Dalton explained the twins' whereabouts before she could finish formulating a question.

"I see," she said, her tone adding _and I'm so glad I'm not noble. _"But didn't we all spend the summer training in techniques for evading kidnap?"

"I seem to remember the same thing," Byrn agreed. "Perhaps this winter would be a good time for a refresher in rescue and escape methods."

"You know," Karyna said, "I think it might be, especially if they aren't allowed to return immediately after the holidays." She and Byrn grinned wolfishly at one another.

"Why do I feel that I've just gained a new insight into the origins of civil wars?" Dalton asked no one in particular.

PDPD

Dalton and Penelope walked within grabbing-and-hauling-upright distance of Byrn as he wheeled his knight master to his own celebratory dinner. Such caution was mostly unnecessary since Byrn was able to brace himself against the handles of his knight master's chair whenever he felt light-headed. He was, however, grateful for their presence on either side when he went to fetch a drink for Brandon because he felt that he had a great deal to say to them, if only he could find the words for it.

"I'm leaving tomorrow. I've started a reply to Rissa's last letter—telling her that I've made it and that she can't make me jealous of Lord Simple Scholar—"

"Or stop saving people just because they might develop unhealthy infatuations," Penelope put in.

"I don't know," Dalton added. "I suspect she finds toying with them afterwards an added benefit."

Byrn managed a quick grin. "Only I don't know how to finish. It makes the Ordeal seem easy in comparison. I thought everything was supposed to seem easier after the Ordeal, but—"

"shhh," Dalton hissed as he poured glasses of wine. "That ancient conspiracy is all that's keeping our young in line. You're duty bound to maintain it as a knight of the realm." Then he passed the wine to Penelope and clapped Byrn's back. "What's your particular problem?"

"I want to—I'm not sure if—I just don't know when I'll see her again or where I'll wind up," Byrn admitted.

"We've been considering doing a bit of travel ourselves this spring," Penelope said thoughtfully.

"We might even have business in Briarwood." Dalton shrugged. "Don't you have a bit of a bandit problem?"

Byrn grinned. "Well, we wouldn't want to call on the Crown, but it is rather urgent and overwhelming."

They returned to find Selena in conversation with Lord Brandon, who was thanking her for adopting Byrn for his summer excursions.

"It was no trouble, sir," she said. "You did all the hard work."

"Will you be staying for supper?" Penelope asked her.

"I would but…" Selena smiled and shook her head. "I have two exhausted blacksmiths to tend to now that the midwinter rush for new armor is over."

PDPD

Selena found both blacksmiths fast asleep on the floor, their heads pillowed on Shadow's flank. The dog thumped her tail as if to say, _can you believe these boys?_ but did not disrupt them by rising.

Selena knelt and planted a quick kiss on Jeck's cheek—to which he made no response—and then wandered into the kitchen to fix supper, hoping that Jason would be hungry enough not to kill her for this transgression when he woke up. Not that it mattered—he might be an expert at making weapons, but she knew more about using them.

_Except for kitchen knives, _she thought, as an onion rolled out from underneath her blade and off the table.

_So there you are, ending on a fluffy note to make up for the earlier angst and hint at the fluff to come—see:_

"I'd like to offer a word to the wise, at this juncture," Penelope said, as a rider that was probably Byrn came galloping towards them.

Rissa glanced sideways with a barely contained sigh.

"Kisses between mounted warriors are theoretically possible, but such attempts almost always end in injury."

_Hopefully, chapter 23 will be up next weekend—my goal is to finish this saga before I graduate in June—in the meantime, thanks for reading and reviewing. _


	23. Testimony

_Many thanks to all who reviewed the last chapter! I meant to have this one up sooner, but Penelope insisted on taking her time with her dilemma… This takes place during the early spring, e a few months after Vina and Rissa have returned to Corus. It contains characters and landscape courtesy of Tamora Pierce. Enjoy!_

"I believe we'll declare this a draw, Lady knight," Lord Wyldon said, gazing at Penelope over their locked blades.

Penelope nodded and disengaged her blade, trying to refrain from blinking in surprise. She had defeated Wyldon only once—in what she and Neal and Dalton had all agreed was a supremely lucky unlikelihood—and had never reached a draw in years of practice bouts with him. She did not, however, have any urge to grin in triumph. She didn't like watching the way Wyldon seemed to be struggling for breath.

Instead, she surveyed the practice courts, which were full of palace inhabitants enjoying the mild spring afternoon. Kel had brought her entire family and was squaring off against Neal (whose dramatic swallow could be heard from a distance of twenty paces). Dalton, meanwhile, was helping Kefira with her staff stance—not an easy feet given that he had one of Mindelan's toddlers under each arm…

"So," Lord Wyldon interrupted her reverie as though he'd never been short-winded, "I hear that you've volunteered yourselves to help tackle the Briarwood bandit problem." He gestured for her to precede him off the court. "I suppose you'll be leaving soon."

"Yes, tomorrow." Penelope glanced at Rissa and Vina, who were drilling in the next court. "Speaking of which…" She turned towards Selena, who was sparring with Dom. "Would you mind watching our Bandit while we—"

"Sure," Selena called, turning quickly back to her fight.

"She only says that because she has no idea how much food he steals," Dalton muttered.

"He only says that because he has no idea how much food Jason cooks," Selena shot back without taking her eyes off Dom's blade.

PDPD

"At least someone knows exactly what she's getting into," Vina said.

Rissa glanced sideways at her twin. "You don't have to come if—"

"It wasn't a complaint," Vina said quickly and mostly truthfully. Karyna's Rider group had only just returned to Corus and they were already getting ready to ride out again. She wouldn't miss much time.

Rissa wasn't convinced. "I'm sure Penelope and Dalton could work if you want to stay with—"

Vina twitched her chin at Wyldon to prevent her twin from committing an audible indiscretion. "And watch the dog and wait for everyone to come back?" Vina tossed her practice sword to her opposite hand in a challenge. "Besides, Byrn will be there. I'm not letting you leap into that alone. I'll want to watch, if only for entertainment purposes."

Rissa scowled at her sister as she swapped sword hands and raised her blade to attack. She was nervous about seeing Byrn again and she needed distraction. "You don't know what you're in for."

"Like I said." Vina shrugged and smiled. "So long as I'm along for an interesting ride…"

PDPD

Their journey took three days and the sun was setting by the time they approached the Briarwood estate, but the fading light did not conceal either the vast expanse of the grounds or the signs of neglect along the road.

"At least you can see why he had to come home," Vina observed.

Rissa did not reply; she was too busy looking ahead and then gathering her reins when a rider—probably Byrn—started towards them.

"I'd like to offer a word to the wise, at this juncture," Penelope said.

Rissa glanced sideways with a barely contained sigh.

"Kisses between mounted warriors are theoretically possible, but such attempts almost always end in injury."

Rissa shrugged in an it-won't-happen-to-us sort of way.

"Even if by some miracle the horses don't bite one another," Dalton added, speaking from experience, "the people wind up with bruised egos, chins, noses--"

"And foreheads," Vina put in, seeing that her twin was still unconvinced.

Rissa raised a hand to indicate Vina's face. "Is that how you got that bump?"

Vina didn't bother nodding. "Is that sufficient testimony for you?"

"I suppose." Rissa shrugged again and clucked her horse into a canter, riding out to meet Byrn.

Dalton glanced at Vina. "Sorry it didn't occur to us to warn you earlier."

Vina shook her head. "I'm surprised it didn't occur to either of us what a bad idea it was. You'd think, between a squire and a Rider, that one of us would have had a little horse sense."

"Love has a curious capacity to kill common sense," Penelope said, eyeing Byrn and Rissa as they abandoned their horses.

"Especially in my case," Vina agreed. "Fortunately experience is a great teacher. It only takes once and you remember forever."

"Or twice," Dalton said, glancing sideways at Penelope, "in the case of particularly thick-skulled individuals."

Penelope winced and raised protective fingers to her nose at the memory of its (second) painful collision with Dalton's cheekbone.

PDPD

Rissa might not have considered Penelope's advice, but Byrn reined his horse in as soon as they'd reached one another and dismounted. So, Rissa tumbled herself into his arms and tried simultaneously to scan his face, kiss him, and bury her nose in his tunic. Since he was trying to do the same to her, it took them a few minutes to sort themselves out, but eventually they wound up standing comfortably with their cheeks pressed together and their hands wrapped around one another's shoulders.

"Hey," he murmured. He brushed his lips over her cheekbone. "Glad you made it."

Rissa stepped closer, nestling into his arms. "Wasn't I supposed to tell you that?"

"No, silly." He ran one hand down her braid. "You were supposed to issue a moratorium on your morbid musings and take my surviving the Ordeal for granted."

"That would have been easier if I'd been there," she pointed out, brushing her nose against his neck. "I'm sorry I wasn't."

"I know," he murmured and managed to smile.

"So," she said abruptly, "are you still free then?"

He answered her first with a long, thorough kiss. Then he added, "my mother would like to see me happily married—or she'd like to see the wedding anyway—but my father fortunately feels that courtship would distract me from the responsibilities of restoring order here. So, I'm to wait a while."

"That's…good." It was somewhere between a statement and a question.

"It's good enough for now." He smiled. "But obviously my father and I have a difference of opinion."

"Really?" she kissed him.

"I make a distinction between distraction"—he traced his thumb over her cheek—"and inspiration." He kissed her forehead.

"I see," Rissa breathed, not allowing herself to think too much—or too hopefully—about what he might mean.

"Nice to see you too Byrn," Dalton called, dismounting.

"Erm, right, sir." Byrn wrapped an arm around Rissa's shoulders and turned to face Dalton. "And where did we—"

"Here," Vina said. She and Penelope had managed to round up their straying horses.

"Thanks." Byrn shook hands with Penelope and Dalton and pulled Vina into a quick hug before taking back his reins.

"So," Dalton said as they remounted to ride for Byrn's home, "I assume the bandits can wait until tomorrow."

"I'm afraid they'll have to." Byrn shrugged. "My mother is expecting you for dinner."

Penelope winked at Rissa, who blanched.

PDPD

They stabled their horses and then hurried to the entrance of Briarwood palace, where Byrn's mother waited on the stairs.

"Your father is feeling unwell this evening," she murmured to Byrn, "he will not be joining us for supper."

Byrn nodded and cleared his throat. "Baroness Amicia, may I present our guests? Sir Dalton and Lady knight Penelope."

Amicia nodded and Penelope recognized her gaze. It was the curious stare she often got from older noblewomen who weren't appalled by her decision but really wanted to know how she'd made it. It also made Penelope wonder what the women would have been like if someone had encouraged them to seek knighthood and what she would be like if she were an ordinary—or at least not knighted—noblewoman.

"And their squires," Byrn continued, "Lady Levina"—he gestured at Vina and then grasped Rissa's elbow. "And this is Rissa," he finished, which suggested that he'd already given her ample introduction in previous conversations.

Lady Amicia's smile brightened. "Come in, all of you. I've ordered supper to be served immediately. And Byrn and I can tell you what we know about the bandits."

Both mother and son were well-informed and it didn't take long for them to share the situation or for Penelope and Dalton to form a plan. Fifteen or so bandits (a few of them former Briarwood villagers who'd fallen on hard times) had settled in the woods, several miles north of the estate, and had taken to attacking the merchants who supplied Briarwood village. The knights would take a handful of Briarwood men and attempt to surround the bandit camp in the hopes of taking as many as possible alive.

"And we'll leave early," Byrn promised his mother in a cheeky tone, "so as to be back in time for tea."

PDPD

And they left almost as early as they had planned to the next morning, which, given that Penelope had long since been disabused of the notion that anyone—with the likely exception of Wyldon—actually left as early as they intended to, was a good beginning. Even if it meant riding off just after dawn without any tea or breakfast.

They stopped about a mile short of the bandit camp to eat bread and break into three groups, each knight commanding four Briarwood men along a different trail so as to close off all the bandits' escape routes.

Rissa did not try to join Byrn's group and he did not ask her to; Penelope was pleasantly impressed by their maturity and smiled when Rissa came to stand behind her. Vina moved her horse alongside Dalton's and waved at her twin as they started down a separate trail.

"I assume you won't have trouble taking orders from a woman," Penelope said to her men as they mounted.

"I assume yer knightness won't have trouble listenin' to advice from locals with a better sense of the land," the nearest man answered.

Penelope nodded at the fork in their path and indicated that he should suggest their route.

"And ye aren't goin' to order us to wash behind our ears?" he asked as they started down the left side.

Penelope sealed her lips over a bemused smile and shook her head.

"Ye haven't met his auntie Nell," another man explained. "If ye'd met ye wouldn't have asked about his takin' orders from a woman."

"I see." She didn't bother concealing her next smile, especially when she heard Rissa muttering that everyone had one.

"She's not his auntie Nell," said a third man. "For that matter, she's a far sight prettier."

"But probably just as sharp an' dangerous," added the fourth.

"I think we're well on the way to an excellent understanding," Penelope informed them.

Before any of them could agree, the bandits attacked with a volley of slingshot missiles.

"So much for sneaking up," Rissa muttered, rubbing her arm where she'd been hit.

"One of the other groups probably startled them," Penelope said, nudging her reluctant horse forward before the slingshotters could retreat. Only three of the group were on horseback. "Let's pin this bunch down before they climb the hill. The sooner we get them disarmed, the better."

The man beside Penelope grunted in agreement as a stone hit his shoulder. Penelope ducked down to make herself a smaller target and hurried forward, hoping that fear of hanging would discourage them from aiming anything deadlier than rocks at a noble.

PDPD

Penelope's calculation was correct, but it didn't make the task of tracking down the bandits any easier. Even though Penelope could hear Dalton and Byrn's groups chasing their own clusters closer. They nabbed a few from horseback, but ultimately had to dismount to track them down and tie them up.

Penelope left one of the Briarwood men watching two prisoners and all of their horses and paired up with Rissa to chase down a few bandits who'd taken off downhill.

The chase was a rather long one since the bandits had a head start and a better sense of the terrain. Penelope only managed to end it by throwing a knife into one of the bandit's thighs. Her aim was off and she didn't leave a deep wound, but it unbalanced him enough to make him fall, knocking his head against a tree root and tripping up his fellow.

Penelope's bandit appeared to have stunned himself and Rissa had her sword to the other's neck before he could more. She kept it there (and kept an eye on Penelope's stunned bandit) while Penelope bound his hands with rope.

"I'll walk this one back," Rissa offered as Penelope flipped the first bandit over, discovered that he wasn't entirely unconscious—his eyelids were fluttering already—and started tying his hands together. "And I'll see if I can find Dalton or someone to help you carry that fellow. Maybe one of the bandits had a horse we could throw him over to get…" her voice trailed off as they hurried away.

"Wait," Penelope muttered after Rissa as her bandit revived enough to sit up and groan. "Wasn't there a third?"

There was. He sprang from a tree and onto Penelope's back. Fortunately, he wasn't heavy and Penelope was able to roll over and pin him. And discover that he was actually a girl and probably a few years younger that Rissa and Vina.

"Oh." Penelope blinked and the girl took advantage of her surprise and bit her wrist in an attempt to squirm away.

Penelope calmly sat on the girl until she stopped. "How'd you get out here?" she asked, grabbing the girl by her wrists and pulling them both upright. "Were you kidnapped?" This might have been the obvious explanation if she hadn't attacked Penelope.

"I came with my brother," she said, indicating the bandit with her elbow. "Only I'm better at it than he is."

"So I see." The girl's brother looked about twenty as he blinked at Penelope. "Why?"

The girl shrugged sullenly and tried to dart towards her brother. Penelope sighed and tightened her grip.

" I'm alright, Jess," her brother said. "Don't make things worse." He fixed his gaze on Penelope. "We joined up with Wink—that's what our boss calls himself—a few months back. After our parents died…it seemed like a good idea…"

"It was until she showed up," Jess snapped.

"You've just been lucky," he said. "They've all treated you like their own daughter. It could have been much worse."

"I know." Jess clenched her eyes shut. "I want my da back," she whispered tightly.

"I know," Penelope said. She released one of Jess's hands to reach for a handkerchief and received two walloping punches and several sharp kicks before she'd managed to restrain her again—this entailed wrapping an arm around her and tying her wrists while she shouted and spat.

Penelope clamped a hand over her lips once she'd finished.

"Stop! You've hit me once. It won't happen again. You should be proud of surviving this long. Now save yourself a little dignity. I didn't want to tie you up and I don't want to gag you, but I'm an expert at doing things I'd rather not. Understand?"

The girl inhaled sharply through her nose and then nodded. Penelope slowly released her and then turned around to find Dalton watching with an amused smile.

"Rissa said you'd be here. We've got most of the rest gathered up." He shook his head. "I'd think that you of all people would know better than to underestimate that girl," he observed.

Penelope would have glared at him if she hadn't had an incipient black eye. "I didn't underestimate her. I just overestimated her common sense and moral decency."

Dalton shook his head and clasped her shoulder. "You would do that, wouldn't you?" He shot Jess, who'd slumped beside her brother, a last look to be sure she was securely bound and then pressed a kiss to Penelope's temple.

She sighed happily and tilted her head to return the kiss—only to realize that her lips had been bloodied and a few teeth loosened in the fight. Lifting a hand to his elbow instead, she found his sleeve soaked in blood and stepped back in alarm to examine him.

"It's nothing," he muttered.

"That's my line," she protested, pulling his arm straight and holding it up so that she could be sure the cut was a shallow one.

"It's not all that original. And this time you have 'it's just a black eye and a bloody lip.'" He proved his arm's fitness by pressing a handkerchief to said lip. "Still, I wish we had Queenscove here to clean up."

"And unable to comment," Penelope added, "while we're wishing." Then they brushed off each other's clothes and collected their bandits to join the others for the long journey back to Briarwood.

PDPD

Jess's brother proved capable of walking once Dalton threw a makeshift bandage around his leg, but he moved slowly enough that Byrn had finished tying the other bandits in a line for the march. All of the Briarwood men were mounted and ready, one holding a lead on two of the bandits' horses. Vina was quietly awaiting orders; Rissa and Byrn were quietly flirting.

"You two can take sweep," Dalton told Rissa and Byrn. They nodded, without taking their eyes from one another—Penelope noticed that their professionalism had slipped now that the job was done—and started around for the back.

"Vina," Penelope said, "would you mind going with—"

"Already on my way," Vina agreed. "There ought to be some kind of chaperone to supervise the prisoners."

"Sometimes it's a good thing there are two of them," Dalton muttered as he and Penelope made their way to the front of the line to lead the party back to Briarwood.

"But three would definitely by a disastrous distraction," Penelope murmured. Though her current distraction had nothing to do with the twins. It was Jess distracting her. She couldn't help admiring the girl's toughness, her fierce loyalty for her brother, her refusal to quit fighting. Nor could she stop imagining Jess in prison, alone and unable to defend herself. It wasn't what she deserved.

"I'm going to slip back and ask her a few questions," Penelope said finally.

Dalton knew exactly whom she meant and he moved to accompany her.

"Don't," Penelope said gently. "I'm pretty sure this isn't exactly standard procedure." She didn't want to see him forced to lie about what she might be about to do if it all went wrong.

Dalton raised an eyebrow and blew her a kiss. Penelope nodded and trotted back to where Jess was walking behind the other prisoners.

"How old are you?" she asked without preamble.

"Sixteen."

"Fourteen," her brother called back. "She'll be fifteen this summer."

"You're smart and fast and strong. You've got a fighting spark. Have you ever considered joining the Riders?" Penelope asked.

"Have you forgotten the fact that I'm tied up?"

"I can fix that if you'll agree to answer me honestly."

Jess clamped her lips shut.

"Don't be stupid, Jess," her brother growled.

Jess took a deep breath and nodded at Penelope, who dismounted and cut away Jess's bonds, clearing her throat as she did so.

"Oh, yeah," said Jess, remembering her question. "I guess so, once. It isn't an option anymore. I was never old enough and now I'm a criminal."

Penelope climbed back on her horse, ignoring this last bit. "Have you got any family left to live with in Briarwood?"

"Out of prison?" she asked in a tone that said _obviously not._

"We've been wanting an extra laundress at the castle," Byrn said absently. "It's room and board and a couple coppers a week."

Jess looked from Byrn to Penelope as though she were unsure what was being offered.

"Don't play dumb," Penelope ordered. "I would be disappointed to find that I've overestimated your potential."

Jess's eyes widened and she nodded slowly. "Alright. I was kidnapped." Tears spurted down her cheeks—Penelope wasn't sure whether or not they were fake. "I thank my Lady knight for rescuing me from bandits and my lord Briarwood for offering me a position. I shall be pleased to begin laundering at his earliest convenience."

Penelope passed her a waterskin. "You aren't to leave Briarwood without notice. And you aren't to live out your life as an underestimated laundress. Understood?"

Jess nodded, a tiny small ghosting over her lips, and passed back the waterskin. Penelope gave her a handful of dried apricots and trotted back to Dalton.

"So?"

"She says she was kidnapped and she wants to work for Byrn's family for a time." Penelope untwisted a bit of her horse's mane. "I think that will be for the best."

Dalton nodded. "Funny thing about saving people—it's never quite standard procedure." He cocked his head at her. "Rather like love that way."

Penelope knew better than to attempt kissing him from horseback, but she was tempted to try anyway. Perhaps the third time would be the charm…

_Thanks for reading and reviewing! And please stayed tuned for the next chapter:_

"Selena!"

She woke instantly at the sound of her name, rolling out of Jeck's arms and trying to identify the familiar voice. She started for the door, but Shadow barked and nudged her towards the window, where the raven-shaped Wildmage was perched.

"Wyldon's being taken to the infirmary," she said. "I think it might have been a stroke. I'm sorry."


	24. Well

_Thanks to all who reviewed the last chapter! Sorry about the delay in posting—I was waylaid by certain treacherous final papers—especially after I threatened Wyldon, which seems to be the literary equivalent of poisoning Santa's cookies. Now that I've earned, but not actually received that pesky diploma, I've accidentally produced something rather epic. (Wyldon wanted to have a few words…) Anyway, this chapter takes place several months after the last, during the summer of Rissa and Vina's last year as pages. Enjoy! _

Vina woke—probably from a nightmare, though she couldn't remember it—midway through the night and knew she wouldn't get back to sleep. She had weeks and months left, but she couldn't stop counting the days until her Ordeal, couldn't stop thinking about the changes that would follow it. She and Rissa would take separate paths and Penelope and Dalton would have other responsibilities to focus on and then there was the Ordeal itself…

When she felt that the ceiling was about to drop and smother her, Vina turned onto her side and blinked at Rissa.

Rissa blinked back and sat up. "Let's go do it."

"Now?" Vina knew that "it" meant visiting the Chamber door.

"It's so early it has to be empty." Rissa was already dressing.

Vina nodded and rolled out of her bed. They dressed quietly and then started silently down the corridor, sharing a single candle. Vina thought they were walking slowly, but then the Chamber door loomed suddenly before them.

"Here," Vina whispered, setting the candle on the nearest bench. "How shall we do this?"

Rissa shrugged. "Do you want to go first?" she asked, hating herself for the question.

"Not particularly." Vina laced her left fingers through Rissa's right hand. "On three then?"

Rissa nodded. They stepped together towards the door and pressed their free hands to it.

_And then Vina's hand slipped from Rissa's and she was absolutely alone in a world of smoke and fog. Every bone in her body ached as she staggered forwards, but she couldn't turn back because she'd then she'd have to stand again and remember watching her enemies slit the throats of everyone she cared for—Rissa, Byrn, Dalton, Karyna, Penelope, Selena…And she would know again that it was all her fault. And she hated moving forwards because she knew there were more bodies ahead and rivers of blood and…Something came shrieking out of the night and she flung herself backwards—_

And landed with jarring pain on her bad right arm, which was throbbing painfully as though she'd only just had it sliced open. She glanced sideways and saw Rissa biting her lip against the tears that coursed down her cheeks.

Rissa forced a smile and helped Vina to her feet. "I think that's enough encounter for one day."

Vina looked down at her right arm, which seemed unable to support her right hand comfortably, and nodded. Rissa carried the candle back to their room so that Vina could keep her left hand wrapped around her right wrist.

It only took Rissa a few minutes of wheedling to convince her to visit the infirmary.

PDPD

Daine was drifting pleasantly between sleeping and waking, exchanging early morning blinks and sighs with Numair and lazily scanning the thoughts of nearby animals when the dog's panic hit her. And then it took her a moment to recognize the problem.

"Greyson!" she muttered, bolting upright, and then, "Wyldon!" She glanced at Numair and continued speaking in the calm, rapid voice that horse people reserve for true emergencies. "Something's wrong with Wyldon. His dog says he's just suddenly slumped over and fallen. He's awake and moving but he can't seem to get himself off the ground or call for help."

"Can't or won't?" Numair muttered. Then he reached out and squeezed her elbow. "It sounds like he's had a stroke. You go and tell Kel. I'll rouse Neal and we'll bring him to the infirmary."

She nodded, kissed his nose, and shifted into a raven before flying out the window. She winged across the palace courtyard, too worried to enjoy the flight, and dropped onto Kel's windowsill.

Luckily the lady knight was already dressing for her morning and she hurried to her window as soon as she she'd heard her name called.

"What's wrong?"

"Wyldon's collapsed." Daine was still trying to catch her breath. "Probably a stroke. Neal should be on the way to his room."

Kel nodded and glanced back at Dom, who nodded back and indicated that he would take care of their children.

"How did—"

"Greyson," Daine said by way of explanation.

Kel nodded as she started tying her boots. "Right. I'll try to meet Neal there."

"Anything I can do?"

"Selena will want to know. She lives—"

"over the smithy," Daine finished, already spreading her wings, "with Shadow." She launched herself off the sill while Kel was calling her thanks.

PDPD

"Selena!"

She woke instantly at the sound of her name, rolling out of Jeck's arms and trying to identify the familiar voice. She started for the door, but Shadow barked and nudged her towards the window, where the raven-shaped Wildmage was perched.

"Wyldon's being taken to the infirmary," she said. "I think it might have been a stroke. I'm sorry."

Selena forced herself to nod. "Thanks for telling me."

Daine nodded. "I should make sure my children are still asleep." She re-transfigured her beak and launched herself off the window.

Selena let out a shaky breath and turned to find Jeck already gathering her a set of clean-enough-to-wear-again clothes.

"Here." He kissed her cheek and passed the clothes to her. "Get dressed and go."

She nodded automatically and brushed her arm against his as she turned to follow her advice.

PDPD

Vina found a small crowd in the outer room of the infirmary when she and Rissa arrived, but Neal was obviously occupied in one of the back rooms. The training master's husband and three children were there, as well as Selena and Numair. Daine, wearing one of the robes kept in the infirmary for patients, stood speaking to Kel and gently scratching Wyldon's hound, Greyson, behind the ears.

Vina and Rissa dropped discretely onto a cot, reasoning that it wouldn't technically be eavesdropping if they sat in plain sight.

"…wish I'd been able to notice sooner," Daine said, "but there's always so much happening in the woods and the palace—so many voices calling to me…I have to tune most of them out most of the time. I'd go mad else wise, I know, but it means that I miss so many cries of need and—"

Numair draped one large hand over the top of her head and made a shushing noise. Daine sighed and stepped back against him.

"And I don't envy you a bit," Neal added, emerging from his back room. "In fact, I'm particularly glad this morning that I can't hear all my patient's thoughts, as many of them are undoubtedly pointed criticisms of my person." He shook his head. "On the other hand, since he can't speak yet, it might be a useful way to evaluate his other symptoms."

"Can't speak?" Kel repeated, absently lifting Wilda into her arms as she searched Neal's face.

"Wyldon's actually doing remarkably well." Neal winced as Peregrine ran straight into his knee and then picked the little boy up to keep him from doing any more damage. "He even managed not to injure himself by falling—probably with perfect technique—on a thick carpet."

"Ever the master strategist," Dom muttered darkly.

"And Daine has nothing to apologize for. Thanks to her, we got there very fast and I've got his blood flowing properly through his head again. He's awake and apparently alert—"

"But," Kel said because she knew it was coming.

"But it may be a few days before he regains the ability to speak and walk."

"May?" Selena echoed.

"It might happen faster or take longer." Neal frowned. "And there's a chance the damage will prove permanent."

"I see." Selena swallowed. Greyson—possibly prompted by Daine—trotted to her and she squatted beside him, forcing herself to smile as she scratched his ears.

"Well," Numair said, as Daine transformed into a pine martin and abandoned the robe, "we should probably leave you to your work. But let us know if there's anything…"

Neal waved them away and tossed the empty robe into the infirmary laundry as Daine leapt into the crook of Numair's elbow.

Dom stepped over to grabbed Peregrine from Neal. "Fira," he called, "let's go get breakfast."

Kefira hestitated until Kel set Wilda down and told her to take her sister's hand. Then both girls followed their father.

Neal sighed and offered Kel the chair as he perched on his desk. Then he spotted Vina and Rissa. "And what have you done now?" he asked, blinking.

"I'm not quite sure," Vina said before Rissa could answer honestly. She stepped forward to show Neal her arm. It was now so hot and swollen that his fingers felt cool even though he didn't use any gift to examine her.

"I'm afraid I'm mostly drained," he said, frowning. "Perhaps if you could be more specific."

"I fell rather awkwardly on it," Vina murmured, aware that Kel, Neal, and Rissa were all studying her face and entirely too ashamed to admit that she'd been so frightened by the Chamber door that she'd fallen away from it.

"Well, then." Neal grabbed a bandage. "We'll make do with an ordinary wrapping and a little common sense." He tapped Vina's forehead. "That means you are to avoid overtiring your arm by _taking it a little easy_." He glanced back at Kel. "How was that delivery?"

She shrugged. "Wyldon will want a sterner tone and won't be impressed by appeals to common sense if they come from you."

"I'll work on my wording," Neal said. And he did so, muttering words like 'overexert' and 'prognosis', as he began wrapping Vina's wrist.

"I'll go get Penelope and Dalton," Rissa offered, standing up .

"Don't bring them here," Mindelan called after her. "Tell them to start the pages' drills. I'll be there in a bit." She swallowed and added in a lighter tone, "he'd hate being used as an excuse to cancel practice."

"It might actually aggravate his condition," Neal agreed.

"Perhaps we ought to make them practice falling in his honor," Selena muttered, still toying with Greyson's ears.

Vina forced herself to smile, but retreated gratefully when Mindelan asked her to follow Rissa to the practice grounds.

PDPD

"Can I see—"Kel began uncertainly.

"Just briefly," Neal said, glancing at Selena, "we don't want to overwhelm him."

"I'll wait here," Selena said.

Kel bit her lip and surveyed the young knight. "Then would you be willing to stay here in case…anything changes while I supervise training?"

"Of course." Selena sat on one of the cots and Greyson sprang up beside her to set his head in her lap.

Kel smiled and followed Neal to the next room, where Wyldon sat propped against a pile of pillows, his expression as unreadable as ever.

"Sir." Kel found herself pulling her hands behind her back as though she were a page again and reporting for duty.

He nodded and sighed in frustration at his inability to gather the words he wanted for her.

"It's alright," she said. "Just rest. And I know this is asking a great deal, but try to relax and let Neal take care of you."

He blinked his resigned agreement.

"Well, we've both always been taciturn," she murmured. "No need to change our ways now."

He blinked again. This time there was a familiar, almost-amused glint in his eyes.

Kel turned to Neal. "Do you have any idea what might have caused his stroke?"

Neal sighed. "He's old, Kel." He turned to face his patient. "No offense intended, sir. I understand it happens to the best of us." He wrapped a hand around Kel's shoulder. "And, all jokes to the contrary, it wasn't you. Or any other lady knight. Or squire, for that matter. He's had plenty of time to adjust. You didn't all exceed his expectations—which he somehow seemed to expect anyway—overnight." Neal shook his head at this lapse in logic. "So unless he's heard about—"

"Wait." Kel glanced again at Wyldon's face. "Did he just raise one eyebrow?" She shook her head. "I had no idea he could…"

"I'm sure it wasn't intentional," Neal told her. "Stroke patients often have trouble regaining control of their facial muscles. I think he only has the one side so far and…"

"He seems to have recovered his capacity to give stern looks," Kel observed as Wyldon fixed Neal with one.

Neal shrugged. "Probably an involuntary response to my presence." He gazed thoughtfully back at Wyldon for a moment before nudging Kel's elbow. "Do you think that's a smirk? Strokes can lead to personality change, you know."

Kel shook her head. "That's a serious scowl—it's just a little lopsided."

Wyldon's nod was a one of indignant gratitude.

"Sorry sir," she said. "I'm afraid I have to leave you to his tender mercies. I'm already late for morning training."

Neal blinked at Wyldon's expression. "I'm pretty sure that was a smile."

Kel grinned. "Me too," she murmured, reaching over to squeeze Wyldon's hand in farewell.

Selena and Greyson came in a few minutes later, each of them settling wordlessly at the foot of his bed. He seemed to draw some comfort from their presence, however, because he quickly fell asleep. Selena then volunteered to assist Neal with herb mixing and stepped into the next room. Greyson stayed on the bed, his noisy breathing matching his master's.

Neal paused to pull up Wyldon's quilt. "And I'm fairly certain that's a snore," he muttered to himself.

PDPD

Penelope and Dalton left their squires supervising the pages' cleanup and hurried to the infirmary as soon as the drills had been finished. They found Selena standing at Neal's desk, grinding herbs and glaring at them as though they'd insulted her left sweep.

"Any news?" Dalton asked.

Selena shook her head.

"Are you alright?" Penelope asked.

"Fine," Selena said, forcing a smile onto her face and shaking her head again without meaning to. Then she had to bury her face against Penelope's shoulder before she fell apart.

"Breathe normally," Penelope reminded her, gently patting her shoulder, which somehow—Selena suspected nerves were a major factor—sparked a long burst of laughter from both of them.

PDPD

Karyna found Vina and Rissa grooming their horses.

"There's a rumor going around the barracks that Wyldon's taken ill," she said by way of greeting. Then she spotted Vina's bandage. "What have you done to your wrist?"

"Nothing." Vina shrugged fiercely and pressed a quick kiss to her cheek.

Karyna wasn't fooled. She wrapped her fingers over Vina's shoulder, but knew better than to challenge her claim. "Are you alright?" she asked instead.

Vina shrugged again. "Just worried about Wyldon."

Karyna nodded, but raised an eyebrow. "And what did the healer say?"

"The usual. Watch, and wait, and see." Vina grabbed a brush in her good hand and turned back to her horse.

"Are we discussing you or Wyldon?"

"It doesn't make any difference," Vina snapped setting down her brush, "neither of us wants to be gossiped about." Rissa flinched at her twin's tone and wondered how much pain she was in. "Sorry," Vina added flatly, "I'm just tired. It doesn't matter."

"It does—"Karyna began.

"It isn't anyone's concern," Vina muttered, shrugging again. She turned and started towards the infirmary without another word.

Karyna sighed and started off in the opposite direction.

Rissa shook her head and shut her eyes so that she could think without watching the two receding backs.

PDPD

"Howlergavsla?"

Neal turned from adjusting the curtain to find Wyldon awake and impatient, if not articulate.

The old training master cleared his throat. "How long have I slept?"

Neal blinked. "How long have you been able to talk?"

Wyldon blinked back. "It appears to be a recent development." He arranged his face into his preferred Stern Expression. "Answer, Queenscove."

"Three or four hours, sir."

"I presume that Selena is still somewhere in the infirmary, engaged in something somewhat more practical than sitting and worrying."

"So far as I know," Neal replied.

Wyldon nodded. "Send her in, if you wouldn't mind. I should like a word."

"Right away."

Neal found Selena—and Penelope and Dalton—tussling with Bandit over a large bandage. She sprang up immediately.

"He's awake and he wants a word. Wash your hands before you go in."

"Is that a good sign?" Penelope asked after Selena had disappeared.

Neal shrugged. "You know the man as well as I do," he said, watching as Penelope wrestled the bandage from Bandit's jaws and threw it across the room. "That is most definitely not sanitary."

"We'll use your boots next time," Dalton assured him.

PDPD

"Wait!" Rissa called.

Karyna spun around and blinked, registering the absence of a bandage on her wrist. "Rissa?"

"Yes. Especially since Vina's being an idiot this afternoon." When Karyna didn't disagree she decided it was safe to continue. "I—there's something—Vina didn't mean that."

"Which you know because you can read her mind." Karyna's voice was rich with irony and doubt. She'd learned cynicism from the masters in the Riders.

Rissa shook her head. "I thought I could once. I thought we understood everything about each other—when we were small, she cried out whenever I fell down—I thought we matched perfectly. Even after I started seeing Gregory, I assumed—selfishly—that she felt what I felt, that she was just jealous. And then she told me about you."

Karyna turned around. "I imagine that was rather shocking. I wish I'd been there to help explain."

"I'm glad you weren't," Rissa put in bluntly. "I was a little angry—"

"You wouldn't be the first." Karyna shrugged.

"At myself, mostly, for not realizing. And with her for not telling me. But I might have lost my temper and yelled if you'd been there." Rissa shook her head. "But then you were there with us when Gregory died and I remembered that you'd always been our friend, even apart from…" she rolled her eyes back towards Vina.

Karyna smiled and nodded. "We were all worried about you then."

Rissa shrugged. "At least I learned that the worst—second worst—could happen without it killing me. Maybe it's made me a little less afraid, knowing I could loose someone I loved without loosing myself." Rissa frowned. "Even if it was a near thing. Vina's been lucky enough not to learn that lesson. Maybe it makes her a little more vulnerable."

"I don't quite follow," Karyna said.

"Vina and I visited the Chamber door early this morning," Rissa explained.

"Aren't you forbidden to talk about what you experience there?" Karyna asked, her voice softening with understanding. "I'm not a knight or a noble and—"

"I might be bending the rules," Rissa said, scowling, "but that's how I operate. And I owe you. Even if some of it was inadvertent, you've done a lot for me and Byrn. And I know Vina—even if I don't understand her…attractions—well enough to know that she's happier with you than she would be with anyone else. So I'm going to say that I saw someone die this morning. And obviously whatever she encountered was worse."

"Oh." Karyna took a shuffling sideways step. "And then her old injury came back like a kick in the ribs to convince her she can't handle her Ordeal."

"Exactly." Rissa nodded. "She just needs someone to hold her and pretend everything will be alright. Not that that's any excuse for being an idiot."

"I see. But then you squires don't actually believe excuses exist," Karyna pointed out.

"Oh." Rissa started towards the infirmary and grinned when Karyna decided to follow her. "It's just that Wyldon and Mindelan were never interested in hearing them so we decided they must not be important."

"Idiots," Karyna muttered fondly, nudging Rissa sideways to make room for herself on the pathway.

PDPD

"Sir?"

"Selena. Sit down."

She lowered herself onto the foot of his bed, trying to count the number of times he'd asked her to sit in his presence. Five, probably, most of them while she was injured.

"How are you feeling?"

"I've felt better, but I can't complain."

Selena felt an unexpected smile chase across her lips. "Can't or won't?"

"Don't be facetious. I already have to put up with Queenscove."

"Very well, sir. What would you like to hear?"

"About anything outside this room," Wyldon said. "And come see if you can help me stand up and walk around while you are at it. I'd like to return to my own room tonight on my own two legs."

"I'm not sure Queenscove will approve," she said, even as she offered him a steady forearm.

"He's done a great many things without my approval." Wyldon lowered his feet to the ground and levered himself upright. "I have a right to return the favor."

"It's not as thought you've missed much," Selena assured him. "Mindelan's children haven't grown more than a fraction of an inch since yesterday." She guided Wyldon through a few tentative steps and then paused so that he would be forced to rest. "Penelope and Queenscove are probably still squabbling happily. And I haven't suddenly decided to run off with King's Own."

"Indeed, you seem to have spent the entire day here awaiting my recovery." He proceeded on his circuit of the room, towing her along with him. "I only hope concern for my welfare hasn't been keeping you at the castle this past year. I won't have you holding yourself back on my account."

"I—"Selena swallowed. "You aren't the reason—I've chosen to stay here on my own account."

"Ah. The smith is another matter entirely. There's nothing dishonorable about obeying your own heart."

Selena kept silent, unsure how to respond to the surprising empathy in his voice.

"And," Wyldon continued, "so long as you don't become stuck here, it would do me good to see you happily settled."

"I am." Settled was exactly how she felt in Jeck's arms. "Oh. You mean married?"

He nodded. "I have retained an old-fashioned enjoyment of such niceties."

"I'm sorry to disappoint, sir."

"You haven't." He squeezed her hand. "And we've made it twice round the room." Indeed, they were approaching his bed again. "I think that ought to convince Queenscove, if you would be so kind as to fetch him."

"Of course." Selena did, however, make sure he was seated before she left the room.

PDPD

Neal glanced at Selena as she stepped back in, wiping discretely at her eyes. "Everything alright in there?"

She nodded. "Well, Wyldon would like to negotiate his immediate release."

"Impossible!" Neal gave no clue as to whether he was describing the old man or his request, but started for Wyldon's bedside. Selena followed just behind him.

Penelope sprang to her feet and glanced at Dalton. "Coming?"

"Of course." He offered her his arm as though they were setting off for a ball. "Someone could make a fortune by charging admission."

"To what?" Dom asked as he and Kel entered the infirmary.

"Wyldon appears to be ready for a philosophical debate regarding the location of his bed," Penelope explained over Dalton's shoulder. "Queenscove will be trying to keep him here."

"Well," Kel muttered grimly as she and Dom followed the younger knights towards the scene of the battle, "my money's on Wyldon.

PDPD

Vina found the front room of the infirmary occupied only by Bandit, who was diligently shredding a bandage. She reached absently to scratch his ears and then made a sound halfway between a moan and a grunt at the twinge in her arm. She sat angrily on a cot and glared at the offending limb, trying to muster up the energy either to find Neal or to go back and apologize to Karyna. If only she could decide which. If only she weren't so weak and so worried about losing everything. If only she didn't depend so much on…

She didn't even bother lifting her head when the infirmary door opened. "Queenscove?" It took an effort to keep her mutter from becoming a whine.

"No," Rissa said cheerfully.

"But we have plenty of experience arguing with him," Karyna added, her voice pulling Vina to her feet.

Still too unsure to face Karyna, Vina glanced at her twin.

Rissa winked once and then became completely absorbed in playing tug of war with Bandit's bandage.

"Sorry," Vina murmured and then buried her face against Karyna's shoulder, immensely grateful that she'd come and that Rissa had explained enough so that neither of them had to say anything for the moment.

"So," Karyna said eventually, nudging Vina's uninjured arm.

Vina smiled against her shoulder and then stepped back just enough to lift her face—and one eyebrow—tentatively.

"Stop being silly."

Vina shrugged and pressed her lips to Karyna's.

A moment later, Penelope opened the door for Selena and Dalton and they ushered Wyldon out of the back room, followed by Neal, Kel, and Dom. All seven of them stopped in their tracks. Rissa stood and started forwards in case they should need help catching Wyldon.

Karyna and Vina stepped reluctantly apart and put their hands behind their backs as though reporting for duty, Vina gritting her teeth against the pain this caused.

And everyone watched Wyldon for signs of a relapse, which he found most irritating.

"Why should you all assume I'm going to have a second stroke?" he said. "After years slaying monsters, leading battles, and training others to do so, you think I'm going to collapse at a mere kiss. I thought I had a more formidable reputation."

"You do among the Riders, my lord," Karyna assured him, breaking the awkward silence that followed this complaint. "But you know what they say about familiarity."

Wyldon nodded and cleared his throat. "Well—"

"I can explain, sir," Vina put in hastily, with no idea what she would actually say.

"I've no doubt you could do so as forthrightly as you just interrupted me," Wyldon said so sternly that Vina blushed. "But I assure you such an effort won't be necessary. I'm not so oblivious to human nature as you seem to think me," he added more gently, "or so interested in investigating the romantic entanglements of squires. So long as they are upholding the Code of Chivalry, what warriors do, and who with, off duty is their own concern." He paused. "Or that of their knight masters." Penelope and Dalton shrugged. So did Wyldon. "I don't approve or disapprove. I'm done with all of that. I'm too old and tired for it."

They all blinked at him in rather gratifying amazement. Wyldon repressed his smile with an effort—it wouldn't do to give away too much now that he'd discovered the joy of behaving unpredictably.

"Well, then," Wyldon continued, "why aren't we walking?"

The outer infirmary door opened before anyone could answer—not that any of them thought it would be prudent to do so.

"Why are you all standing in the doorway?" Jeck asked.

Selena smiled in relief. "I'll tell you as soon as we've walked Wyldon back to his own room."

Jeck nodded agreeably and took Dalton's place at Wyldon's other arm with a calm "glad to see you on your feet, sir."

PDPD

"Well," Neal said, sinking slowly into his chair as Kel peeled away the hand she'd plastered over her lips. Vina lowered her arms with a sigh of relief. Penelope leaned against Dalton and let a wave of silent laughter ripple through her body.

"I think," Neal continued, "that a certain pair knight masters—once Mindelan's pages—will have to cede their title to the Worst-Timed-Kiss-Ever-Witnessed-By-A-Training-Master."

"Gladly," Dalton muttered.

"You can still be recognized as Unable-To-Follow-Their-Own-Advice-Regarding-The-Dangers-Of-Kissing-On-Horseback," Rissa assured them.

Kel shook her head. "Someone's changed his tune since my days as a page."

"Maybe he's only modified it thanks to your influence," Penelope put it.

"That would make you a muse," Dom said, squeezing Kel's shoulder as she shook her head again.

"As for you, Vina." Neal attempted, unsuccessfully, to fix the squire with a stern gaze. "I thought I ordered you to take it easy on that arm. Bring it here." He beckoned. "And don't ask any cheeky questions about whether you're allowed to keep it attached at the shoulder."

"I'd assume that's a yes then," Rissa muttered as Vina stepped over and started quietly explaining how she'd really re-injured her arm.

PDPD

Selena's squeezed Wyldon's fingers one last time and then followed Jeck out the door, sighing as she watched him close it.

"Tired?"

She shrugged and took his hand. "Just thinking." She kissed his cheek. "Thanks."

He smiled. "I've become rather found of the old fellow since he's stopped glowering every time I touch you. Now he just gives us that enigmatic frown."

"It's his roundabout way of showing approval."

"Good." He wrapped an arm about her shoulders. "Let's go home."

_So, send in some reviews. We're drawing towards the end of our story, but there will be plenty of Ordeal-related intrigue in the next chapter:_

"So," Kel said. "Do you have a plan for the twins' Ordeals?"

"No." Penelope answered automatically if no longer entirely honestly.

"But we have found several simple solutions," Neal added.

"One per problem, in fact," Dalton agreed, "assuming no unforeseen complications."

_And I hope to have it up within a week, fingers crossed. _


	25. Turns

_Many thanks to all and reviewed the last chapter—you've inspired me to write such a long Ordeal sequence that I've had to break it into two parts. This is the first and I hope to have the second up by the end of the weekend. Obviously, this chapter takes place just before midwinter and contains characters and a ritual created by Tamora Pierce (not to mention an extra high fluff content). Enjoy!_

"It's freezing," Rissa muttered, pressing her shoulder against Vina's for warmth as they leaned against the fence of the Riders' pasture and peered into the dark for signs of the homecoming Rider group.

"You could be enjoying a nice meal, possibly with a warm toddler on your lap," Vina pointed out. "Mindelan invited your to her supper party." She flexed her arm carefully—it was gloriously pain-free at the moment, but she knew she'd have to keep it moving if she wanted it to stay that way.

"Where they are undoubtedly discussing our Arrangements in ominous murmurs that I would just as soon avoid hearing," Rissa said. "So, despite my earlier observation, I'm happier here. Especially since I won't be clasped in the rapturous embrace of someone whose arms will be even colder than ours after hours of riding in this weather."

The both lifted their eyes at the sound of approaching hoof beats.

"You are indeed fortunate my priestess of pessimism," Vina intoned distractedly as she squinted into the distance, anxiously counting Riders. None were missing. Indeed, there was one extra. Vina frowned and then grinned. "But possibly about to eat your words. That one"—she pointed—"looks awfully big for a Rider pony. And the Tricksters did pass through Briarwood, so…"

Rissa was already trotting towards the Riders.

"You'd better hope he's not wearing chain mail," Vina mused as she caught up. "Rider leathers are probably downright cozy in comparison."

"We'd better hope they haven't been talking about us," Rissa shot back, grinning as Karyna cast a light with her gift and she could definitively recognize Byrn.

Which is exactly what they were doing as they rode up.

"Think we can tell apart with those identical smiles?" Byrn asked.

"Think we can trust them to tell us apart?" Karyna laughed as she dismounted directly into Vina's arms—which caught most of her weight and kept her numb feet from hitting the ground too suddenly. "Better then?" she asked, wrapping a hand over Vina's right shoulder.

Vina brushed her nose against Karyna's cheek. "Much."

Byrn wasn't wearing chain mail. He was wearing several woolen layers, which were smelly and itchy against Rissa's cheek, but let her feel the solid thump of his heartbeat without scratching or freezing her face.

"I didn't expect you to be here for—"

"I couldn't not." The fingers that cupped her head weren't any colder than her own. "It just took me a little while to convince my parents that Briarwood absolutely must send a representative to court for the midwinter festivities." He smiled. "And I was most pleasantly surprised to find you out waiting for the Riders."

Rissa shrugged happily. "What else is midwinter for?"

His lips were definitely warmer than hers when he pulled her into a kiss so long it drew whistles from the not-easily-impressed Riders. Vina tapped their shoulders and informed them that they were welcome to stay out all night, but that she would be going with the Riders to tend horses and eat a hot supper. Byrn grinned and clasped Vina's arm; Rissa reached across them to squeeze Karyna's hand.

"So," he asked as they started for the stables, "where are the knight masters?"

"Meeting with Mindelan," Rissa said.

"To decide our fates," Vina finished.

PDPD

"So," Kel said as they sat down around the table. "Do you have a plan for the twins' Ordeals?"

"No." Penelope answered automatically if no longer entirely honestly.

"But we have found several simple solutions," Neal added.

"One per problem, in fact," Dalton agreed, "assuming no unforeseen complications."

"Which may be asking rather a lot of the world," Neal conceded under the force of the training master's gaze and Wyldon's throat clearing.

"Well then," Dom said, slicing up a loaf and passing around slices of bread, "let's hear them."

"Whichever twin goes first will have one of the Mithran priests—"Penelope paused to salt her potatoes—"or I suppose we could get a priestess of the Goddess or some other suitable figure…Anyway, she'll have her initial inked on her forehead for the day and only the unmarked twin will be allowed to enter the chamber the next morning. That way no one will be left wondering if one of them went through twice."

"There's a precedent for it about ninety years when the procedure was used to distinguish between a set of twins—male obviously," Neal assured them. "Incidentally, Ludric and Lyle, also both had names beginning in 'L', which doesn't seem to have posed a problem."

"For the priests, perhaps," Kel muttered. "I'm sure the parents came to regret it." She turned to cut Peregrine's meat into small pieces. "What about instructing them in the Code?"

"That's a little more complicated," Dalton said, setting a hand on Penelope's angrily trembling shoulder.

"The matter of needing a so-called neutral party?" Wyldon guessed.

Dalton nodded. "We can't both be there for them. So one of us will instruct each twin, obviously with another knight."

Kel nodded. "Right. It seems like a sound plan."

"Any idea which of you will go with which of them?" Dom asked.

"Or who you'll ask to assist?" Kel added.

Penelope shook her head. "We're still deciding."

PDPD

Karyna managed to catch Byrn's arm as they both refilled their bowls. "How worried should we be?"

"I don't know." He shook his head. "I can't help it. But I know being worried about didn't help me last year. I'm trying just to _care_ mostly and hope that's enough."

She nodded and managed to twist her frown into a smile before they reached the twins.

PDPD

"We do need to think about it tonight," Dalton said as they were undressing.

Penelope shrugged out of her shirt and trousers and into her nightgown without turning to face him. She peeled off her socks and tossed them for Bandit to chase, but his antics brought her only a fleeting smile.

"I know," she said finally, kissing his chin as she crossed the room to wash her face. "I hate having to choose." She blinked at herself in the mirror and turned to dry her face. "I hate having to abandon one of them at the most important…"

"I know." He splashed water on his face and threw his shirt over a chair. "Me too." He climbed into bed and held up the blanket as she joined him, flinching at the cold sheets and curling her back against him for warmth.

"On the other hand, given the circumstances," she said slowly, a little too ashamed to turn meet his eyes, "I can only imagine doing this one way."

"Right then, that's decided." He tucked a bit of hair behind her ear and kissed the back of her shoulder. "You'll take Rissa. I'll take Vina. Who will you ask to help instruct her?"

She rolled over to face him. "I was thinking of Wyldon, assuming he feels able—"

"He'll never indicate he feels otherwise. "He limps like my sister—it's very graceful and matter-of-fact." Dalton adjusted the blankets and settled his hand on her hip. "Or Byrn's come back—I saw him walking the girls home—if you'd rather have him instead."

"It might be easier for me, but I think he's too close to Rissa."

"They're only a year apart and you instructed Selena," he pointed out.

"That was different. Selena and I are friends." She propped herself up on her elbow and kissed him. "Not lovers."

"Have they…?" He glanced down towards their intertwined feet.

"I don't think so and I like to think we'd—I'd know anyway…Rissa's not secretive. But there's an…intimacy to instructing someone in the Code. And I don't think it should be mixed with…any other kind of intimacy."

"Maybe it's a good thing we won't be instructing them together then."

She chuckled and settled her head on his arm. "Anyway, I wouldn't want to make her walk away from Byrn. I'm not sure I could have walked away from you. Wyldon would easier to walk away from."

"Even for me. He exudes an aura that keeps people from thinking up excuses." Dalton smiled. "I'm going to ask Selena. I figure people are less likely to imagine improprieties if we have a woman."

"And she owes us one," Penelope agreed.

"There's that." He tweaked her nose. "Do you think she'll ever have a squire of her own?"

Penelope frowned. "Well she couldn't take a boy. And she'd probably have to be married for parents to trust her with a girl." She sighed and brushed her nose against his arm. "What about you?" She swallowed a little reluctantly. "Do you want another?"

"Not right away." He leaned over and kissed her. "I want you to myself for a little while."

"Good," she murmured. "Me too."

PDPD

Neither twin had anything to add or any modifications to suggest (or, in uncharacteristic fact, anything to say at all) when Penelope and Dalton proposed the plan to them over breakfast.

Dalton found Selena working with several other women, during an impromptu afternoon training session and asked if he might have a word. She nodded and followed him a few paces off the court; they both leaned against a shed and turned to watch the ongoing drills and duels.

"I was—well, Penelope and I are wondering if you might do us the honor of assisting me when I instruct—"

"Of course." Selena grinned. "I'd love to."

"But I haven't even told you which—"

"As if that would make any difference." She shook her head. "Or as if you'd need to. Vina, right?"

Dalton shrugged in agreement and shook Selena's hand. "Thanks."

PDPD

Penelope found Wyldon as he was leaving the infirmary after what Neal termed a 'precautionary going-over'.

"Sir?"

He twitched his cane to indicate that she should continue.

"Would you be willing to assist—as our neutral party—when I instruct Rissa?"

"Certainly, Proudcreek, though I shall be neutral in name only." He nodded at her and started briskly away.

Later that afternoon, Rissa's name was drawn not only first before Vina, but first of all. Which meant that the twins would have the two first Ordeals and that they would begin in just two days.

PDPD

"I'll be first," Rissa said slowly as she dropped onto a bench in the mess hall. Repeating the news did not help her absorb it.

"Which is rather appropriate," Vina put in hastily, "since you were born first—unless they ever mixed up our baskets when we were babies, in which case I might actually be you and you might really—"

Karyna covered her mouth. "Hush dear, and don't say anything that might confuse the nice priests who are going to tell you apart."

"Or anyone else," Neal added, grimacing and pressing his fingers to his temples.

"Quite," Byrn agreed, glancing from twin to twin and clasping Rissa's hand under the table.

"At least you have all the arrangements made," Selena said.

"And you only have two—"Dalton glanced at Vina—"or three days to enjoy the sensation of time simultaneously standing still and speeding forward."

Rissa blinked at him.

" 'Enjoy' being a euphemism for 'endure' that he learned from his own knight master," Penelope explained.

"Who, incidentally, will be arriving between your Ordeals," Neal put in. "At least, according to what she told me this morning."

Selena turned towards Vina and Dalton. "I'll understand if you want to upgrade."

Vina smiled and shook her head. "I'd just as soon keep things among us lesser mortals."

PDPD

Rissa did not enjoy the next two days, though she did enjoy the moments she spent sitting quietly with Byrn (in an effort to make keep time from speeding forwards) and riding through the back fields with him (in an effort to get time moving again when it seemed to be standing still). Time passed at its own pace, agonizingly slowly and with horrifying speed.

PDPD

"Ready?" Penelope asked.

"Almost," Rissa whispered.

Penelope nodded and walked around Wyldon to loop her arm through his on his weak side.

Rissa turned around to hug Dalton, who pressed a brief kiss to her forehead. Then she kissed Byrn (so thoroughly that under any other circumstances Penelope might have suspected she was trying to shock Wyldon and one-up her sister) and smiled at something he whispered in her ear. Finally, she clasped hands with Vina and the two sisters stood with their foreheads pressed together for an eerily long moment.

"Go," Vina murmured at last. And Rissa followed after Wyldon and Penelope, leaving Dalton, Byrn, and Vina to shake hands and go their separate ways.

PDPD

Vina swiped a biscuit from the kitchen and gnawed unenthusiastically at it while she tromped back to her room and sat down on Rissa's bed. Her twin's absence hung in the air, choking her like smoke. She kicked off her boots and curled up in a ball, staring at the floor, waiting for morning, and hoping it wasn't ominous that she was more worried about Rissa's Ordeal than her own.

She ignored the first knock on her door, but the second was insistent enough to make her force herself upright and shuffle to the door.

"Hey," Karyna murmured, laying her free fingers against Vina's cheek as though she were a skittish horse. She carried a covered basket in her other hand. "I thought you could use some company."

Vina turned her nose towards Karyna's hand, inhaling the scents of soap and apple pie—not details she thought she should be observing while Rissa was…She swallowed guiltily.

"At least take something to eat, even if you'd rather wait up alone." Karyna pushed the basket towards her.

Vina kissed her fingers before they could trail away. "I wouldn't," she whispered, grasping Karyna's arm to usher her inside. "Please stay."

PDPD

For Rissa, the night seemed to pass in a half-dozen breaths and a handful of heartbeats. Moments danced before her closed eyes—dueling with Vina, Penelope correcting her stance, Dalton fixing her grip, Gregory passing her a glass of wine (it was the first time she'd simply remembered him without wondering when she'd be done mourning), and Byrn kissing her on the practice court as he passed back her sword—and when she opened them and stood up it was morning. And she felt absolutely ready for whatever was waiting for her.

PDPD

Penelope and Dalton held a vigil of their own, lying on opposite sides and gazing at one another across the width of the bed. They dozed occasionally, but neither of them spoke, both drawing all the assurance they needed from their clasped hands.

"Nearly dawn," Dalton said finally.

Penelope groaned in agreement and they pulled each other upright.

Bandit, who'd had a full night's sleep, leapt up to stick his cold, wet nose in their ears. This had the benefit of inspiring them to stand up so as to get out of range.

"Funny," she murmured, trying to rub some circulation into her cheeks. "My head seems to have spent the night inside a helm being battered on a hot afternoon."

"You look lovely." He appraised her blearily. "In a grey-with-worry sort of way."

"Tomorrow that might actually be a compliment," she muttered, chucking a pillow at him as she marched towards the teakettle. There was time for tea and they'd definitely need it.

"Remind me to repeat it then," he said on his way to let Bandit out. "And I'll try for something chivalrous after an ocean of extra dark tea."

PDPD

As soon as the darkness began to soften with a hint of the coming dawn, Vina forced herself to crawl out of bed and dress. It wasn't easy; she hadn't slept, but Karyna's peaceful breathing had lulled her into a restful waiting.

She tiptoed to the basin and washed her face, hoping the cold water would rinse away her fatigue. Then she perched on the edge of the bed to tie her boots.

"I haven't been to any Ordeals, but even I know she won't be entering—much less exiting—the Chamber for a while yet."

"I know." Vina smiled back at Karyna. "I need to be there early." She started braiding her hair and found that her fingers were too unsteady to manage more than a sloppy tangle.

"Here." Karyna nudged Vina's hands from her hair. "Let me. You just sit and breathe and tell me about what you'll do when all of this is over."

"After midwinter?" Vina sighed. "Rissa's restless—she's been packing. She'll go—well she's not entirely sure where yet…

"I imagine Byrn might have an idea."

"Quite possibly," Vina agreed. "And I think I might like to travel this summer. But I don't want to follow her aimlessly through the snow. So, I'm going to do whatever their majesties wish me to around Corus and enjoy the opportunity to be unconventional. I'll take a room in the knights' corridor and give you a key."

Karyna's breath caught momentarily before she kissed Vina's shoulder and tied off her braid. "And today?"

"I've no idea." Vina laughed softly. "Apart from the evening of course. I don't expect the priests will approve of my spending much time with Rissa. So, more restless waiting. And you?"

Karyna sighed. "I have to be at the barracks all day. Mandatory midwinter scrubbing out, repairs, and repainting. I'll slip off early to wish you good luck. And first I'm going to stand discretely in the back of the chapel and make sure your sister is all right."

Vina swallowed. "Don't be so discrete tomorrow morning."

"Are you—"

Vina turned around. "I'm tired of tiptoeing and whispering. I don't want to do anything blatant and reckless—we're both private people, unlike Rissa. But I want to be honest about the fact that I'll really want your arms when I come out of that room."

"You'll have them," Karyna promised, wrapping her in warm embrace.

PDPD

Selena woke early and was surprised to find Jeck already up and gone. She dressed quickly and found him downstairs talking worriedly with Jason.

"…always thought life would be easier once we were head smiths and running the place our own way, but now that we are—"

"There just isn't enough time," Jason finished. "You know, most people would say it's to our credit that the work has expanded so much."

"I know." Jeck sighed. "It's just—it doesn't do anyone any good if we can't get all the work done."

"We manage when it isn't midwinter."

"But it is midwinter, Jason. And we aren't managing it."

Jason refilled both of their mugs and passed the pot to Selena so she could pour her own tea. "We were. And it isn't your fault our temporary assistant had to quit to take care of his sick mother. We got along fine while he was doing all the grunt work."

"We aren't going to find another," Jeck reminded him. "Not at this time of year. So that leaves—"

"Me," Selena put in, startling both of them as she sat down at the table. "I have to help Penelope and Dalton this afternoon, but starting tomorrow I'll fetch and carry and pound whatever you need—"

"No you won't," Jeck said, making Selena and Jeck blink. "You're a knight, not a common—"

"I'm not doing anything else. I might as well make myself—"

"You shouldn't feel you have to—"

"What if I want to?" she demanded.

"Why would you?"

"Jeck," Jason put in. "Just let—"

"It's alright," Selena said. She reached for Jeck's hand. "For one thing, if I'm going to consider myself entitled to carry weapons—and to kill with them—I think I ought to know as much as possible about where they come from. You didn't seem to mind showing me the ropes when I was a squire and we were first—"

"That was different." Jeck lifted her hand and kissed it. "That was just dabbling."

Selena decided to overlook this potential insult, but she did pull her hands away and lay them flat on the table. Jason took this a cue to occupy himself elsewhere. "Is this about us?" she asked. "Or everyone else? You don't seem to mind when I mend your clothes—which seems only fair since you keep my gear in such excellent condition. And it's perfectly usual for craftsmen's wives to assist with their business, so—"

"You aren't a common craftsman's wife," he said, pushing aside his tea and standing up.

"And whose fault is that?" she snapped, knocking over the bench in her haste to rise. She stooped to lift it and added, softly, "it certainly isn't for lack of love."

"Is _that_ what this is about?" He grabbed her elbow. "Because you know to blame noble custom for the idea that certain kinds of people shouldn't share any—"

"I know about noble custom," she spat. "I've spent my entire life struggling with it."

"And yet you've already said you wouldn't be available today because you'll be participating in an ancient ritual and a formal dinner."

"I am a knight," Selena agreed slowly, aware that this had suddenly become a sticking between them.

"I know." Jeck's fingers drifted to her collarbone. "You've worked so hard to become one and I love you for it." He kissed her cheek. "Only I think it left you convinced that you just have to want things enough in order to have them. But you can't always. There are rules that can't be broken; there are consequences for crossing certain lines. I just wish I could protect you from—"

"You hypocrite!" Selena stepped away from his touch. "You don't even know what it is you want to protect me from. At dinner tonight, several women will ignore me, some young men will assume I'm loose and available, and some old ones will assume I'm used and desperate enough to appreciate their hints of possible proposals." She was overstating the case a bit, she knew, but there were consequences for appearing with a complicated reputation instead of a husband. And she was angry.

"I would think, then, that you would realize what people would say if they see you sweating through my menial errands or married…" He realized that he'd clenched his fists and forced himself to uncurl them. "It's so far beneath your—"

"I can decide for myself whether a task or a marriage is beneath me," she snapped.

"It must be nice to have that noble luxury of being able to decide on your own dignity," he muttered. It was true and she hated to hear it.

"Try thinking about the fact that I willingly eat from your common table and share your common bed," she snarled. "And there have been a few snide remarks, but my dignity didn't suffer until you decided we couldn't be equals in our own home." She crossed her arms so that their shaking wouldn't be apparent under his shocked gaze. They gaped at one another in silence.

"That was low, lady knight," Jason observed.

"I know," Selena muttered, dropping her gaze towards the floor. "I—"

"And not entirely undeserved," Jason added, nodding pointedly at Jeck.

"I will think long and hard," Jeck said, reaching for Selena's hand and lacing their fingers together briefly. "But this isn't really about a week's worth of extra work. And," he added sadly, "nothing's changed since the last time we discussed marriage. Unless your feelings have?"

Selena swallowed, remembering that discussion—he couldn't—wouldn't ask her to marry him, no matter how much the both might want it. "We wouldn't be having this argument if my feelings had changed." Her thoughts about acting on them, however, were another matter entirely.

He smiled ruefully. "Probably not. I love you," he said as the bells began to ring. "You're going to be late."

"I know." She pressed a hesitant kiss to his cheek and ran out for the chapel.

_So, the next chapter will obviously deal with Vina's Ordeal and Rissa's love life. And an awkward dinner party moment: _

"In fact," Kel said thoughtfully, "the Ordeal's rather like giving birth." This caught the astonished attention of the entire table and she found herself obliged to continue. "It's painful and terrifying and transcendent, it leaves you euphoric and exhausted; and then you realize all the real work is still ahead of you."

_It won't be the last chapter, but I do plan to wrap this story within a few chapters and write an ending that coincides with the epilogue of Love and Money. Meanwhile, happy reading and reviewing!_


	26. Triumph

_Thanks to all who reviewed the last chapter! Sorry to have left you waiting and worrying so long! The action picks up almost immediately after the last chapter leaves off; the landscape belongs to Tamora Pierce; and I feel it's only fair to warn you've I've had almost as little sleep as my characters due to my impending graduation…Enjoy!_

Rissa emerged from the Chamber very pale and very chilled, but otherwise apparently unscathed. Penelope, Dalton, Byrn, Kel, and Neal converged upon her, followed by a pair of priests, who insisted upon marking her forehead before anyone was allowed to touch her.

Vina was forced to wait several paces back with Wyldon, who rested one hand on her shoulder in what Vina thought might have been either sympathy or a symptom of his difficulty balancing.

"Alright?" Penelope asked as the priests finished.

"It wasn't as bad as I expected," Rissa muttered, just before vomiting across the floor. The priests barely managed to keep their robes out of harm's way.

"How nice to see your adorable little pessimist all grown up and pleasantly surprising everyone," Neal observed.

"Isn't it?" Penelope muttered, gratefully accepting a wet handkerchief from Kel and cleaning Rissa's face (carefully avoiding her forehead) while Byrn wrapped her in his cloak. "What I'm really looking forward to is watching her eat and rest."

Rissa just had time to kiss Vina's cheek and clasp Wyldon's hand before Dalton and Byrn half-walked, half-carried her back to her bed. There, under Penelope's watchful gaze, she was allowed to nestle against Byrn and required to drink several mugs of broth and tea. The entire day passed in a pleasant daze, broken only by Alanna's arrival and congratulations and Vina's anxious leave-taking.

And then it was time to dress for supper—a prospect Rissa faced with surprisingly little enthusiasm.

"I know you'd rather wait for Vina," Penelope said. "But the court will have a much easier time celebrating new knights in general if the only new knight thus far puts in a brief appearance."

In the end, though, it was Byrn who convinced her to come by threatening to die of boredom amidst a cluster of flirtatious older widows if she didn't keep him company.

PDPD

"Dalton," Selena said as they waited for Vina to finish bathing, " can I have word?"

"Sure. What about Jeck?"

"How did—"

"Well, you don't generally preface remarks about weather or weapons' techniques," he said. "And if it were any other serious matter, you'd ask my wife."

"Oh, I'll probably chat with her too—it will give us something to talk about while she helps me dress for dinner."

"That bad, huh?"

"I really don't need him to see me as a noblewoman tonight," she said. She'd carefully collected the dress early in the afternoon while Jeck was out and left it with Penelope. "Especially as the 'noble' seems to hold more of his attention than the 'woman' lately."

"Trust me." Dalton squeezed her shoulder briefly. "It's the two concepts together that are causing the problem. He loves you and he knows it's forbidden."

"That's—" Selena began to protest.

"No. Think. How many tales do you know about common girls marrying their handsome rescuers and becoming princesses or duchesses or whatever?"

"I don't know. Maybe ten. Why?"

"And how many do you know about men who marry their beautiful rescuers and become kings?"

"Unless the one about the frog counts, there aren't any." Selena sighed.

"Exactly. You two aren't just breaking the rules of the realm, you're in another realm altogether. That can't be easy. And you aren't just a lady, you're a lady knight, which is…well, complicated for any man, even another knight. I love Penelope and I know she's absolutely and irrevocably a warrior—it's part of why I love her. But there are moments when I really want to send her home and keep her safe… Anyway, I'd say Jeck's handling things very well, given what he's up against."

"So, I probably only mucked things up by making hints about marriage this morning," Selena muttered.

Dalton reached over and lifted her chin. "Not necessarily. That sort of thing slips out if it's going to. And if you don't talk about what you want it will never happen."

Selena drew a deep breath. "Dalton, if Penelope had asked you to marry her, would you have agreed?"

Dalton smiled. "She did."

"I thought—"

"Oh, I proposed in the end. But she asked me to with her eyes and her actions. It was sort of a mutual stumble into our married state."

"That's encouraging," she teased. "But you wouldn't been too proud or minded that you should have been the one to…"

"Pride's easy enough to swallow if you're really hungry and you cut it into bite-sized pieces. Are you going to ask him?"

"I don't know." She swallowed. "I'm not ready yet."

"I would if I were him—say yes, I mean."

"Thanks," she whispered turning to hug him.

"But don't think it will solve all your problems." He wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "You'll still be a knight and he'll still be the smith you fell in love with. Jeck's not George; he won't be given a title. Some people will keep making your lives difficult. You already know you'll never have the entire world's approval." Dalton frowned. "And what about children?"

"I'm pretty sure I want them," she said with a slow decisiveness that Dalton envied. She stepped back to face him. "I don't know if they'd inherit my titles or not." And if they didn't, then, boys or girls, they couldn't follow in her footsteps and become knights. But they could follow in Jeck's or join the Riders or… "But I'd rather carry Jeck's commoner children than anyone else's noble heir."

"So think about that then. But don't worry about proposing—it'll happen when you and Jeck are both ready."

"Speaking of which," Vina said, stepping in, "I am—ready that is." She looked very young and small and tired in her white clothes, but her shoulders were firmly squared and her hair gleamed darkly. "And"—she turned to Selena—"you should stick with Jeck even if he won't marry you right away. Even if it's difficult for you to be together, at least you know how deeply he loves you—and really you, not just whatever land or titles or babies he thinks come attached."

Selena smiled at Dalton. "She is ready."

PDPD

They left Vina seated outside the Chamber and found Penelope and Jeck talking quietly and waiting for them outside the chapel. Dalton smiled triumphantly and kissed Penelope while Selena stepped uncertainly towards Jeck.

He set hesitant hands on her shoulders. "I'm sorry," he whispered.

"Me too." She stepped close enough to feel the warmth radiating from his chest and shut her eyes as he chafed her chilled arms.

"We should talk, sweetheart," he murmured.

"We should," she agreed, opening her eyes. Then she sighed. "I have to dine with—"

"I know. I'll wait up." He tilted his face as though seeking permission to kiss her—something he hadn't done for ages.

"I won't stay late." She lifted her lips to catch his gentle kiss.

PDPD

The evening's seating arrangements left a great deal to be desired. Penelope didn't particularly mind being seated far from Dalton and Rissa (especially as she was between Selena and Neal instead) but she thought it had been rather foolhardy to put Alanna and Wyldon almost directly across from one another. And then there was the former ambassador to Tusaine, who spent entirely too much time drinking and talking, largely about things—such as knighthood— he knew nothing about. Penelope managed to ignore him through most of the meal (mostly by enjoying Neal's remarks on the need for more tactful diplomats) but found it impossible to do during the lull that began with dessert.

"…in any case," he was saying, "the ceremonies surrounding knighthood have survived, but they are mere ceremonies. After all, now that so many women have undergone the Ordeal, it cannot be considered more than a token gesture." He paused to stuff a forkful of lemon tart into his mouth.

Wyldon cleared his throat. Penelope took a ginger cake and looked down the table with eager interest.

"The Ordeal," Wyldon said firmly, "is far more than a token ceremony."

"Perhaps once—"

"In fact," Kel added thoughtfully and loudly to prevent the ambassador from continuing, "the Ordeal's rather like giving birth." This caught the astonished attention of the entire table and she found herself obliged to continue. "It's painful and terrifying and transcendent, it leaves you euphoric and exhausted; and then you realize all the real work is still ahead of you."

Selena elbowed Penelope and, as they exchanged alarmed looks, asked "Do you think that was a challenge or a warning?"

"Regarding motherhood or knighthood?" Penelope asked.

"Forget you ever heard it," Neal told them, "and hush so I can listen."

"And I imagine," put in one plump, sweet-faced woman who probably had never touched a sword in her life but was undoubtedly adept at sewing blankets and singing lullabies, "that no one really believes how difficult it is until they've done it themselves."

"Exactly," Alanna agreed, glancing from Kel to Wyldon. "And there's no way to avoid the experiences if you want to have a child or become a knight."

"And twins complicate matters in both cases," Neal whispered.

The ambassador was a stubborn man, if a stupid one. "You only say that because you are women."

"Indeed," Wyldon continued as though he had not heard this remark, "the Ordeal is a fundamental tradition—an institution essential to the bedrock of Tortall's society—not a bit of ornamental theatrics."

"Rissa's painted forehead to the contrary," Dom muttered in an undertone.

Fortunately, Wyldon's remark effectively silenced the man, leaving everyone free to enjoy their desserts in silence. Penelope smiled and helped herself to another ginger cake, watching Wyldon and Alanna eye one another warily. Eventually, it was the onset of dancing music that broke the silence.

Penelope and her fellow diners did not immediately flood the dance floor, however, because most of them were too busy watching for symptoms and placing bets on the outcome as Wyldon requested Alanna's hand and led her into a waltz.

"Wow," Dalton murmured, setting a hand on Penelope's shoulder when she reached him.

"They might be old," Rissa said, ducking George's playful fist. "But they are amazing."

Penelope had to agree. The two veterans moved with the same extraordinary grace and speed they exhibited on the practice courts. And, aside from the moments when Alanna attempted to lead, they were remarkably well-coordinated.

PDPD

"I'm glad to see we both share a reverence for that particular tradition," Wyldon remarked.

"I've only worked to ensure that women be allowed to participate in it," Alanna reminded him. "Never to abolish it. The Chamber gave me the irrefutable proof I needed to keep my shield. And neither of us has a high tolerance for idiots.

Wyldon nodded. "Indeed not. Although I must admit that Mindelan's brilliant analogy would not have occurred to me on my own."

"I imagine not." Alanna spun lightly in his arms. "I believe there are only two of us who truly understand it."

"There may be more one day," Wyldon remarked.

Alanna glanced at the three youngest lady knights standing in their gowns—Penelope's twilight blue, Selena's burgundy, and Rissa's pale yellow—and apparently gossiping like any other young noblewomen. "I hope so," she murmured.

"As do I." This made Alanna miss a step and Wyldon used it to regain the lead as he continued. "There is, however, one significant difference between the Ordeal and childbirth."

"Quite. The Ordeal is a once-in-a-lifetime experience, but most women give birth more than once."

"I was going to say that the Ordeal is for oneself, but childbirth is for one's children."

Alanna nodded and they danced in silence for a time. Then she said, "I was troubled to hear of your recent illness. I hope you will inform me if there is anything I can do to assist you."

"I thank you. I am much improved." His health was not something he wanted to discuss with an old rival. "You're trying to lead again."

"Sorry, it's how I learned." She shrugged unrepentantly. "Youthful habits die hard."

"That they do." He smiled. "Speaking of which, we are worrying the youngsters." He was right, Dalton and Selena were both watching their former knight masters the way one might watch an enraged skunk as Wyldon drew Alanna off the dance floor and kissed her hand.

PDPD

Rissa didn't realize how heavily she'd been leaning on Selena until Wyldon invited his former squire to dance. Then she found herself yawning and swaying slightly. And worrying about Vina, who must be almost as tired as she was and still had the Ordeal ahead of her.

"Cheer up," Penelope said, steadying her. "Celebrate. You're finished. Almost finished anyway," she amended, understanding that it wouldn't be over for any of them until Vina emerged. "You should be dancing."

"And did you dance after your Ordeal?" Rissa demanded.

Penelope shook her head absently, her eyes on Dalton as he danced with Kefira and kindly adjusted his stride to fit her short legs. "Dalton was doing his vigil and I was dealing with the idea that I was going to marry him the next day. So unless you plan to marry tomorrow…" she smiled at Byrn as he took Rissa's arm and shook his head.

"I see." Rissa sighed. "No excuses."

"Exactly." Penelope smiled at her once more before stepping off to dance with Neal.

Rissa yawned again as Byrn nudged her away from the table.

"One waltz and I'll walk you home," Byrn promised.

"Maybe two," Rissa said, feeling a sudden surge of energy as his hand settled against her side.

He grinned. "Says the girl who kept me on the practice court until dark the day Vina threw us together. I believe your choice phrase then was 'just one more round'."

"Well, I had to at least try to break even—even if I couldn't beat you." She spun and turned to face him, changing the subject. "Last fall we were—"

A page bumped into them on his way to clear the table.

Byrn shrugged. "Where were we?"

"Almost in bed." The words were bolder than those she'd meant to use—clearly her brain was too tired to filter her mouth—but Byrn took them in stride, quite literally re-adjusting their steps after the page's interruption. "Before I was called home, I mean."

"And we were negotiating my inability to promise you a proposal." He glanced at their interlaced fingers. "I don't believe either detail has changed."

Rissa felt her ribs hitch against his fingers. "But you—"

"I knew you had your Ordeal coming." He pressed a quick kiss to her cheek. "I didn't want there to be any distractions."

She frowned at the old pang this word brought. "Am I so distract—"

"You aren't any more distracting or distractible than me or any other knight," he said, squeezing her fingers.

"I'm not sure how much that means." She smiled crookedly. "I find you very distracting at the moment." She couldn't push Vina out of her mind entirely, but she hadn't been overpowered by worry since she'd started dancing. And she'd barely noticed when the musicians had switched songs.

"Good." He kissed her briefly. "Mostly, I selfishly wanted to wait until your Ordeals wouldn't distract you from us."

"Oh." Rissa swallowed under the intensity of his gaze and the realization that he also understood it wouldn't really be over until the next morning.

"And I didn't want you to do anything just because you were worried about your Ordeal and—"

"What if I want to do something just because?"

"That would be different." Byrn smiled. "I'm just giving you time."

"Thanks," Rissa murmured even though she hadn't asked him to. She understood how valuable time—especially time to think—could be, Gregory had taught her that. "I—"she yawned again, contentedly and let him lead her off the dance floor.

He waited until they had left the ballroom to speak again. "And I've been trying to make…" He stopped speaking and slowed his pace.

Rissa kissed his chin and settled her head on his shoulder as they walked.

"I—Here's the truth: it might be years before I can marry—or it might be only months—"

Rissa swallowed, thinking that years were friendly enough creatures, but months were rather terrifying things.

"so long as his condition holds steady, my father will want to keep me managing most of the estate, but he's not going to let me marry and assume full control of things. It might me a while before he deteriorates enough to…"

"I don't mind."

"And it's still a faint possibility that he'll try to pressure me into marrying someone else."

"I see." _That _Rissa would mind.

"I just—" Byrn stopped. They'd reached the point where the paths to the squires' corridor and the guests' corridor parted. "I felt you should know these things before we—"

"Byrn, I've known for a long time that there aren't any guarantees in life. You helped convince me it's worth enjoying anyway." She hugged him. "Thank you."

"You are most welcome." Byrn held her in his arms for a long time before taking a reluctant half step backwards. "Get some rest, lady knight."

Rissa felt a small thrill at this casual use of her new title. It wasn't quite enough to mitigate the loss of his warm arms and she frowned slightly.

"Or try to anyway," he amended, "I know you have a great deal on you mind. He kissed her temple and nudged her down the squires' corridor.

Between Byrn and Vina, the distant possibility of marriage and the new excitement of knighthood, she did have a great deal on her mind as she walked towards her room. But none of the thoughts that spun through her head felt like decisions—the Ordeal had left her with some certainties about herself, if not her future; it wasn't a matter of figuring out what she wanted, but if and how she could…She reached her door, but didn't even bother unlocking it before she turned around.

PDPD

"Jeck," Selena called softly, ruffling Shadow's ears.

"Here." He was sitting at the kitchen table, sketching out metal-work designs by candlelight. He stood quickly and then froze, taking in the sight of her burgundy dress (which Dalton had accurately predicted would "get his attention"). He glanced away and then back at her and then away again.

"Please look at me," she murmured. "This is just one part of me."

"A particularly pretty part," Jeck muttered with the ghost of a chuckle under his words.

"But one who loves you just as much as the parts that wake up beside you and watch you work and walk around in sweaty practice clothes and scold Jason for leaving oatmeal stuck to the bottom of the pan." She swallowed, suddenly aware of the intensity of his gaze as he stood and stepped towards her. "And I—our life isn't easy for either of us—but I need you to know and love all of me—even the side that society says you aren't supposed to touch."

"I do." He took her hands lightly in his own. "More than you know." He raised one hand and kissed her knuckles. "And can you love all of me? Even the proud, stubborn, scared idiot who won't let himself imagine what it would be like to marry you and worries about what everyone would think of your helping in the smithy."

"Especially him. I have a soft spot for proud, stubborn men." They smiled at one another. "And I—"she swallowed—"Jeck, you make my armor and my weapons. You protect me wherever I go and you are the home I fight to come home to. And—" she wasn't sure what she meant to say next and wound up bursting into tears instead.

"Here." There weren't any handkerchiefs about, but he found a clean dishtowel and held it out to her. His hand shook slightly as he stroked her hair. "And you give me the courage to hope that the world will change the way it treats people like us."

Selena smiled and felt her breathing soften.

"Better?" he asked when she'd blown her nose.

"Good." He tossed the dishcloth into a corner. "I've done some thinking." He smoothed a hand over her hair. "And if you'd still like to offer your help this week, I'd be grateful for it."

"Alright. I'll start tomorrow. And speaking of help—"she smiled—"I'm going to need some getting out of this dress."

"I don't know—"

"I'm sure you can manage." She took one of his hand calloused hands between her own and lifted it deliberately to her silk-covered shoulder. "Even idle, duffle-brained noblemen seem to."

"Do they?" He kissed her thoroughly and thoughtfully. "Well, it hardly seems a fair exchange of labor—" he ushered her gently towards the stairs—"but I'll see what I can do."

PDPD

Byrn opened the door immediately at Rissa's knock. He'd just finished removing his boots and he dropped the last one hastily so he could pull her into a kiss.

"I already know I won't be able to sleep tonight," she said, enjoying the way his eyes widened.

He nodded and pushed his door shut with one hand, lifting the other to brush a bit of hair from her face. "Me neither."

"Good." She stepped forward, resting her hands against his chest to hide their trembling, nosed at his chin, and pressed her face to his, heedless of the mark on her forehead.

"Especially not now," he added, kissing her and then stepping back to study her face.

"Too many things to think about," she agreed, ducking her head somewhat shyly as she stepped out of her slippers and set them beside his boots.

He took her hand. "Most of them can wait until tomorrow morning."

PDPD

"We'll have an early morning again tomorrow," Dalton observed as he drew Penelope into a dance. It was her first with him all evening; she'd already danced with Wyldon, Dom, Neal, and George and shared a lovely batch of biscuits and conversation with Lord Brandon.

She nodded. "So it's probably best if we stay out dancing as long as possible."

"In order to minimize the amount of time laying in bed exhausted and unable to sleep," he agreed.

"Which means we should switch from wine to tea at our next break." Penelope spun, smiled at him, started trying to lead, realized her mistake, and shrugged at him.

"And for a moment there--"he reached out to tweak her nose—"I thought I'd married a ruthlessly brilliant strategist."

PDPD

_Rissa knelt on the flagstone of the Chamber and tried to work up the courage to touch the battered body before her. She wasn't sure whether it was hers or Vina's. And she wasn't sure which would be worse. How could anyone tell them apart if they weren't there at all…_

_The body twitched and Rissa screamed before she remembered that she wasn't supposed to._

"Rissa," Byrn murmured. His hand was warm around her shoulder. "You're dreaming." He didn't bother saying that it was 'just a dream' or risk scaring her by trying to still her thrashing. He just waited patiently for her to realize she was awake and meet his eyes. "The Chamber?" It was barely a question.

"Vina." She nodded. "Sorry." She swallowed and tried to look away.

He wrapped hand around her cheek to stop her. "Don't be. Two nights after my Ordeal I woke up and found the sheets so soaked I couldn't tell whether I'd wet the bed or just been sweating like a horse." He brushed a tangle of hair away from her face. "This is preferable." He kissed her shoulder. "Much prettier."

She managed a quiet, shaky laugh.

"Are you alright?"

She swallowed and glanced towards the window; she thought the sky was just beginning to lighten. "Almost." She shivered with cold and at the thought of Vina entering the Chamber.

"Here." He pulled up the blankets and wrapped an arm around her.

She smiled and rolled over to bury her face against him.

"Vina's strong." He brushed her hair out of the way and began rubbing her tense shoulders.

Rissa sighed and let her eyes drift shut.

"I want to ask you something."

He spoke slowly and kept rubbing her back, but Rissa opened her eyes in mild alarm. "Your family situation can't have changed overnight. You don't have to propose just because—"

"This is more of a proposition actually."

"Oh?" Rissa raised an eyebrow without lifting her head—she didn't want to discourage him from rubbing her back.

"Briarwood has some small scattered Spidren infestations. I was instructed to bring back a knight or two to help me tackle them. You could probably stay on afterwards—through the summer at least—it's close enough to the border that there's almost always something."

"Can I think?"

"I wouldn't have asked you if you couldn't," he teased. Then he stroked her hair. "Anything in particular you need to consider?"

"I'm—part of me desperately wants to come with you." She sighed. "But I can't just sit with you and wait on your parents," she blurted. Then she propped herself up on one elbow and set a hand on his ribs to soften her words. "I—remember when I told you I had things to prove to myself?"

"Of course." He kissed her.

"I still do. And they aren't all…about you." She swallowed, distracted by the way he ran his hand up and down her arm to rub away goose bumps. "I've never been apart from Vina. We both need to know that we can handle being separate. And I have to go out and test myself on my own before I just settle down and wind up always wondering whether or not I would have been able to—"

"It wasn't a proposal, remember?" The way his hand wrapped around hers negated this slightly. "Time's one of the few things I can absolutely offer you right now." He kissed her cheek. "Along with love and monsters to kill. So just think about it." He squeezed her hand. "Once Vina's finished and you can afford to daydream a little."

PDPD

Karyna and Dalton (with Rissa and Penelope just behind them) were the first to reach Vina when she tottered out of the Chamber.

"How do you feel?" Dalton asked, squeezing Vina's good shoulder and releasing her into Karyna's arms.

"Fine. Everything hurts."

"And she's a little tired," Rissa added judiciously, throwing a blanket around her back. "And mildly illogical."

"And cold. And hungry. And whiny." Vina forced herself to lift her head from Karyna's shoulder and smile slightly.

"How's the arm?" Penelope asked.

"Still attached," Vina said, as though this point had previously been in doubt.

"Keep it that way," Penelope ordered. She kissed Vina's cheek and then turned with Dalton to accept Alanna's congratulations at having gotten two squires through their ordeals.

"Squires can sometimes be like pancakes—your first few can come out burned or underdone—but those two seem perfectly cooked."

"And what does that say about us?" Dalton asked Neal.

"Nothing good, certainly." Neal muttered. "She's not a particularly good cook. Vina's fine, by the way, physically at least."

"It's a good thing they're both finished," George observed wryly. "That mark on Rissa's face is hopeless blurred."

"I wonder if that has anything to do with the smudge on Byrn's cheek," Dalton muttered.

"Quite possibly." Penelope pressed her forehead experimentally to his cheek and then kissed his neck. "Perhaps its just as well we're finished with them," she said, watching Rissa and Karyna help Vina out the door that Byrn held open for them.

"So you think, anyway," Neal remarked.

PDPD

Rissa and Vina spent the day alternately eating and dozing while Byrn and Karyna and Penelope and Dalton slipped in and out for food and quiet conversation. The only activity towards which Rissa applied any real effort was scrubbing the magically enhanced ink off her forehead. Despite its smudging, this proved to be something of a project and she finished just in time to dress for supper.

This time she sat between Vina and Byrn (and far from the former ambassador) for the meal and danced with Dalton and Wyldon before finding Byrn.

They smiled at one another and danced in silence for a time, content not to say anything. They moved by unspoken agreement towards the edge of the room.

"Tired?" Byrn asked.

"A little." Rissa spun and shrugged. "I think I'll come with you."

"To my room?"

"I meant to Briarwood." She darted in a step and kissed his cheek. "But both actually." She stepped back and resumed dancing. "I can't promise to stay all spring, but hopefully I won't have to leave to sneak out of Briarwood in the middle of the night

PDPD

"They're not even leaving separately," Penelope muttered as she spotted Rissa and Byrn starting down the corridor.

"They're not our responsibility," Dalton reminded her. "They're knights now."

"I know." Penelope yawned widely as she scanned the room for Vina.

"She slipped out a while ago," Dalton informed her, hooking their elbows together.

"Not that it was your responsibility to notice." Penelope leaned against Dalton's shoulder as they began ambling back towards their room.

"It's going to take a little getting used to, that's all."

"I almost think it'll be harder for us than for them." Penelope frowned. "I mean, we were only a little older than they are now when we started with them. And we just sort of became competent and reliable without thinking about it because we had to be responsible for them."

Dalton nodded. "We agreed to take squires immediately after our Ordeals. We've never really been at loose ends like this before."

Penelope sighed. "I'm not sure I like it. I feel so…empty."

"You aren't." He kissed her temple. "We're just exhausted."

She sighed again in agreement as she unlocked their door. "And restless already."

"We're going riding tomorrow," Dalton decided.

"Where?" She pushed open the door and kicked off her uncomfortable slippers, sending Bandit bounding across the room to fetch them.

"I don't care. Anywhere. Just the two of us—three of us," he amended, extracting a slipper from Bandit's mouth. "We need it."

PDPD

Rissa left Byrn's room towards the end of the chilly, fuzzy patch between late and early. If he'd been in the knight's corridor, she would simply have stayed over, even if it meant running the risk of encountering Penelope or Dalton as she left the next morning (among other social consequences). But Byrn was in the guest corridor and, much as she might have enjoyed shocking Great Aunt Angraine, she didn't think it would be fair to awaken the entire palace with outraged screams. So she kissed Byrn goodnight, let him wrap her in a spare blanket for the walk through the cold castle, kissed him again, and returned to her own room.

Vina lifted her head off the pillow as she stepped in.

"Sorry," Rissa whispered, climbing into her own bed. "I didn't mean to wake you."

"You didn't," Vina said. "I only just got back from the Rider barracks." They exchanged identical smiles. "Goodnight."

"It's actually morning," Rissa said, burrowing beneath Byrn's blanket.

"We've both had nearly three nights without any sleep," Vina muttered, rolling over. "It's night if we say so."

"And it will be until noon," Rissa agreed.

"At the earliest."

PDPD

"Perfect," Jeck murmured as he set the intricate dagger he'd been working on to cool. He gestured to the forge fire she'd kept fueled, the bellows she'd pumped, and the tools she'd passed him, allowing him to focus completely and efficiently on the weapon itself. "Thanks." He kissed her temple.

Selina smiled and pressed her cheek to his. She'd been working all morning—sweeping up, fetching coal, carrying equipment, learning to make simple repairs to basic weapons.

"I think if I make this part of my routine—perhaps a few afternoons a week—Wyldon will finally stop nagging about strengthening my arms and shoulders."

Jeck didn't protest as he would have done the day before. He passed her his hammer, letting their hands linger together a moment. "At least you'll have something better than bruises and broken quintains to show for it."

"There's that," she agreed and then laughed as they tried to kiss without getting soot on one another. It didn't matter much; their clothes were all destined for the wash anyway.

"So long as you don't counteract all the improved efficiency by distracting him with your endless flirtation," Jason put him.

Selena glanced from Jason to Jeck and furrowed her brow. "You have him dictating standards of professionalism?"

Jeck shrugged. "It seems to come with the food."

"I see. No avoiding it then. Anything else I can do?"

"Not for the moment—"Jeck began.

Jason cleared his throat.

"I was going to wait until…"Jeck shrugged at his friend and bent suddenly to retrieve something from a box beneath his workbench. "Test this out for me. We've had to do months of tinkering to adjust the light-weight metal formula for the links, but I think we've finally managed to—"

"Jeck," she breathed. 'This' was a beautiful chain-mail jerkin. It flowed almost like silk and weighed little more than an ordinary tunic in her hands, but she had no doubt it could turn a blade. "I don't know what to say…"

"Happy early midwinter to you too," he said, kissing her cheek.

Selena grinned and tore off her apron to try the jerkin on. It fit perfectly. Jeck knew her very well.

"How does it look?" she asked.

"I said last night that you were particularly pretty. This is better."

"He's always been attracted to sooty noses," Jason remarked.

Selena and Jeck generously decided not to dump the wash water on him, largely because they were otherwise occupied.

_So, I hope you enjoyed the extra long episode and I can reassure you that Rissa and Vina aren't about to disappear entirely. See:_

"So," Vina said as they closed the last of Rissa's bags. "I have a room. It's the one next to Penelope and Dalton's."

"Gregory's old room?" Rissa asked.

"I'm sorry. I hope you don't mind. It was—"

"the only room left," Rissa finished. "It's fine." She smiled at Byrn. "I'm fine."

"Good. You can help me lug my stuff over."

_I'm not quite done with this story and I really want to finish it through the next year of the characters' lives. Meanwhile, I'm about to try living as a freelance/writer editor for the next year of my life. This means that updates will be sporadic through the summer, but they will happen—I'm pretty stubborn when it comes to finishing stories. And your reviews really encourage me to keep seeing this one through. Best wishes and stay tuned.—Silverlake. _


	27. Questions

_Many thanks to all who reviewed the last installment! This one begins with the end of the midwinter holiday that began in the last two chapters and contains content created by Tamora Pierce. Enjoy!_

For Rissa, time did not stop behaving oddly even after Vina's Ordeal. The entire midwinter tumbled by in a whirl or parties and a blur of wonderful hours with Byrn, broken only by painful anticipation of the approaching goodbyes. And then she was suddenly back in the room she shared with Vina, packing her things for her journey with Byrn while Vina filled chests and bags to be carted to her new room. And even more suddenly, she was finished.

"So," Vina said as they closed the last of Rissa's bags. "I've found a room. It's the one next to Penelope and Dalton's."

"Gregory's old room?" Rissa asked.

"I'm sorry. I hope you don't mind. It was—"

"the only room left," Rissa finished. "It's fine." She smiled at Byrn, who was stretched comfortably on their floor. "I'm fine."

"Good. You two can help me lug my stuff over before you leave."

PDPD

Penelope found that she did not enjoy the spare time she'd stumbled upon after the twins' Ordeals as much as she'd expected to. Even after the pages' training resumed, she wasn't entirely sure how to spend her days. At least until Mindelan summoned Penelope and Dalton and Selena to her sitting room.

"The king wants another training exercise run for older knights before the weather warms up," she explained as she pried her enthusiastic toddlers off of their legs. "And I haven't time to plan it."

Penelope glanced from the stack of parents' letters on Kel's desk to the diagrams of pattern dances on her chair to the heap of dirty clothing that needed to be delivered to the launders. "I see," she said. "So you want us to help with—"

Kel shook her head and wiped a smudge of jam from Wilda's cheek. "I want you to do it. Create a scenario. Select a workable location. Orchestrate equipment and supplies. Issue invitations. And direct and judge the event, of course."

"Alright," Penelope said, pretending she'd been asked to saddle a horse or write an inventory list. She wasn't going to make this happen unless she pretended that she actually could. Which, come to think of it, was probably why Mindelan was pretending to break it into small pieces.

"Of course," Dalton repeated in a similar tone, as though the twins weren't suddenly looking easy in retrospect.

"Right," Selena added. "We wouldn't want to burden Wyldon with it."

"Wonderful," Kel said as her twins picked up tiny wooden swords and began attempting to slay her sofa. "I can't wait to see what you come up with." She smiled and sat down at her desk, apparently untroubled by her children's noise. "Perhaps I'll even participate myself."

PDPD

"Well," said Dalton as he shut Mindelan's door behind him.

"Erm," Penelope agreed. And then they ambled silently after Selena, walking all the way to the smithy because it seem easier to think while their feet were moving.

"So," Selena said, shrugging and ushering them inside, "we should probably start right away."

"Or sometime last week," Dalton muttered.

"Come by tonight," Penelope said. "Bring Jeck—"she smiled at the smith—"he's always got interesting ideas about weapons—we'll have tea and make an evening of it."

"Are you—" Selena began.

"I'm almost ready now, actually," Jeck said, already tidying away his tools and tearing off his work apron. "There." He threw the apron over its hook and then took Selena's arm as they started towards the palace. "What exactly are we doing?"

Selena whispered an answer in his ear.

Penelope smiled at Dalton and stayed smiling until they reached the knights' corridor. There, her face fell at the sight of Marcel's friend Berin, who apparently felt obligated to be twice as vicious in Marcel's absence. She melted away from Dalton and let her hand drift down towards her sword when she realized he was marching towards Vina and Karyna.

"It's bad enough that they've let lady knights live here, but to have you bringing her here." He glared at Karyna. "Your filthy, common Rider slut who—"

"Evening, sir." Karyna did not bother releasing Vina's hand or describing the evening as a good one. "I beg you will remember that I am not the first Rider woman to grace this corridor. There have been many other commoners before me." She smiled crisply. "Including the ones who accepted invitations to your bed."

Something in her tone made Dalton wonder if she had once refused such an invitation, but Jeck spoke before he could consider the possibility any further.

"In my humble opinion," Jeck said. "It would be most unchivalrous of you to deny the lady knights any privileges that you have claimed for yourselves."

"Even if the privileges are people," Karyna put in.

Jeck grinned. "Especially if the privileges are people."

"You use the term most loosely," Berin began. "If you think—"

Karyna ignored him and stepped towards the smith. "You must be Jeck," she said, extending a hand. "And I'm—"

"Karyna—I've heard a word or two about you." He smiled and they shook hands warmly, as though they were lifelong friends who had met unexpectedly in the street.

Berin did not appreciate being ignored by the individuals he was attempting to bully. He took a menacing step towards Jeck and prepared to launch a full verbal barrage. "How dare you—you who stand polluting all the old ideals of knighthood—you who have helped to break irreparably our most ancient and treasured customs…"

Penelope sighed and stopped paying attention to his words. Dalton decided Berin might have been a talented orator if only he'd had better ideas to express. Vina and Selena ground their teeth. Jeck shrugged and folded his arms, listening with an unimpressed expression. Karyna flexed her fingers and waited for Berin to stop.

"Actually." She cocked her head at Jeck. "He was hardly the first commoner man to visit this corridor or one of its knights." She turned back to Berin. "The others I know of are all Riders though, so he might be the first smith."

"Only Riders?" Jeck asked conversationally. He glanced deliberately at Berin and draped a hand over Selena's arm.

Karyna shrugged and wrapped her fingers lightly over Vina's shoulder.

Vina shifted slightly to place herself between Berin and Karyna. "I'm sure there have been knights and squires too—"

"I can think of some," Penelope put in, though she normally tried to avoid thinking about Alanna and the king and she certainly wasn't ready to imagine Rissa and Byrn. Not that either combination was quite what Vina had in mind.

"But they wouldn't technically be guests," Karyna pointed out.

"Nor are you," Berin snapped. "Since guests are welcome and you are not." He turned on his heel and started away.

"My." Karyna spoke mildly but pitched her voice to carry after Berin. "You've certainly changed your tune since that kiss by the River Drell."

Berin slammed his door. Selena, Penelope and Dalton turned to stare at Karyna with raised eyebrows.

"Well," Jeck muttered. "I suppose there's no accounting for the vagaries of noble taste."

"None at all," Penelope assured him as she opened her door. Then she turned to Vina and Karyna. "Won't you come in? We were just about to eat something and plan a training exercise."

It took Vina a few seconds to realize that this was an invitation from a fellow knight and not an order from her knight master and then it took her a few more seconds to get over the strangeness of accepting such an invitation, but she eventually nodded and grinned.

PDPD

"So," Penelope murmured as soon as she'd managed to draw Selena aside to help her rummage for tealeaves. "Jeck held his own out there."

Selena smiled. "He's—we're…better. We don't talk much about it, but…"

"You don't need to," Penelope filled in.

Selena nodded. "And I've been thinking about—researching what the legal repercussions might be if we were to marry or to have children."

"You say that as though the two activities aren't necessarily mutually inclusive."

"That's because my children can probably inherit my so-called nobility if I don't marry anyone." Selena shrugged. "But if I married Jeck, our children would definitely be commoners."

"Even if you'd been sleeping with the king?"

"Eww. But yes, apparently."

Penelope frowned. "Have you considered the possibility that all lawmakers are seriously inbred idiots who want to keep you from producing any future lady knights?"

"That was the first conclusion I came to as well." Selena shut her eyes and sighed.

Penelope clasped her shoulder. "What are you going to do?"

"What would you do?"

"I—"Penelope glanced across the room, caught Dalton's eye, and felt her heart leap softly—"I don't know."

"Me neither." Selena's fingers clenched into a fist.

"Does Jeck know?" Penelope asked.

Selena nodded slowly. "He told me he wanted me to think hard about what being with him is doing to my future and my family." He had, however, kept his arm wrapped around her as he said this. "But he also said he wanted to be selfish and leave it all up to me without trying to talk me out of or into anything." He'd removed his arm as he said this, but he'd made no protest when she tucked herself back under it to sleep.

Penelope shook her head sympathetically. "I hate it when they admit to being selfish without doing anything to change it. Not that there are really any better options for either of you."

Selena shrugged. "At least he didn't argue when I pointed out that illegitimate noble children aren't always any better off than legitimate commoners."

PDPD

"So." Dalton passed Karyna a second loaf of bread as the two of them began slicing it for toast. "What was that about back there with Berin?"

"Tradition, change, and prejudice." She started stacking slices on a plate. "Or were you wondering more specifically why I would accuse Berin of changing his tune when I've…" She glanced across the room at Vina, who was helping Jeck build up the fire.

"Switched instruments," Dalton offered. "Definitely an improvement. Actually I'm—I'll be blunt—I'm more interested in Vina's happiness than in your helpful hypocrisy."

"So that's where her protective streak comes from," Karyna said. "Don't worry I'm not about to run off with a nobleman or another woman or a talking horse—though I do have a friend with wild magic who got a little drunk and offered to play matchmaker…" She shook her head. "That kiss happened years ago—and Vina knows about it. He was a squire. I was two weeks out of training and fifteen years old. It was the first time either of us had seen a freshly killed body and we saw a lot of them that day. We were both sent down to collect water for cooking and we wound up alone and—"

"I see." Dalton began cutting up a wedge of cheese. "Did he--"

Karyna shook her head quickly. "_We _were fortunately interrupted before I… made any truly regrettable mistakes. He came looking for me later, of course, but by then I'd had time to remember why I wasn't interested."

"That could've taken weeks," Vina muttered as she stepped up between them and shot Dalton a stop-the-interrogation expression. "He's wrong for so many reasons."

"I came up with the obvious ones in about fifteen seconds, but I'm still adding lesser evils to the list."

"We all are," Dalton said. "You girls should keep a lookout for him. He won't have liked having a rejection rubbed in his face."

Karyna rolled her eyes and Dalton reached out to grab her wrist.

"Seriously, I want you to stick around," Dalton told her. "At least Vina no longer seems to be pregnant with my twins since you've started showing up next door."

"Pregnant with twins?" Karyna repeated, glancing mockingly between the two of them.

Vina nodded. "It's not completely unreasonable. Twins do run in families—Rissa will probably have a pair." Then she grimaced and blinked at Dalton. "It does involve some unpalatable technicalities though."

PDPD

"Rissa?" Byrn murmured. "We should probably get moving if we want to make it the rest of the way to Briarwood this evening."

Rissa wasn't entirely sure that she considered this an inducement to moving. Bitterly cold morning air aside, she'd enjoyed traveling with Byrn. She liked being between places without a daily schedule and loved cooking a simple meal with him each night and curling up together in their tent. And she knew things would be more complicated in his home.

"Rissa," Byrn said again. "I know you're awake. You've been tossing all morning."

"Sorry." She opened her eyes and lifted her head to his shoulder.

He brushed a bit of hair from her face. "Dreams again?" He spoke with sympathy rather than pity.

Rissa bit her lip, knowing that she didn't have to say anything. "And I didn't expect to miss Vina this much."

He didn't make an insulting offer to escort her back Corus. He just lifted one of hands and idly laced his fingers through hers while she spoke.

"It's like I've lived all my life with an invisible third hand and then suddenly had it cut off." She studied the silhouettes of branches on their tent wall as she spoke.

Byrn whisked a hand over her shoulders and stomach. "Where was it attached?" he teased. Then he sobered and kissed her forehead. "I miss her too."

Rissa raised her head in question.

Byrn smiled. "She always interpreted your unexplained behavior for me. And kept me from saying anything stupid."

"Ah," Rissa said, "no wonder—Mithros!" She realized that the strange silhouette she'd been watching belonged to a Spidren just as it tore through the side of their tent.

They scrambled for their swords as the tent collapsed around them and then cut their way through tent canvas and Spridren webbing to face their attackers. One lunged towards Rissa and she sliced away its three nearest limbs. Then, at Byrn's signal, she leapt away from the remains of the tent and gave the canvas a sharp yank in order to unbalance the monsters.

Byrn impaled one before it could stand up and Rissa decapitated the other as it struggled to regain its feet. Then they stood blinking at each other across the blood-spattered wreck of their tent and the scattered mess of their gear.

"So," Rissa said finally. "Do your parents expect you to bring home the type of girl who kills Spidren before breakfast?"

"Not precisely. But you clean up fairly well."

PDPD

Rissa did have the opportunity to bathe and dress in a loose-fitting tunic and trousers before she dined with Byrn's parents and met his father for the first time. Cleanliness was not, however, enough to put her at ease. Even after his prolonged illness, the Baron of Briarwood was an intimidating man. And, despite her kindness, his wife, Amicia, seemed perceptive enough to be even more terrifying.

Under their gazes, Rissa felt as if she had writing on her forehead—something along the lines of _I've been sharing your son's battles, mess kit, and bedroll for the past week. _She squeezed Byrn's fingers and then dropped her hand away and took a distancing step sideways. She had a new appreciation for the way Mindelan and her husband could stand together and still maintain the appearance of two independent and professional soldiers. If Penelope and Dalton (not to mention Vina and Karyna, who were experts at making their proximity look like a coincidence) could master the technique, then she would have to copy it.

This resolution kept her calm until the food was served and the interrogation began. Briarwood's questions came so quickly that neither Byrn nor his mother could get a word in edgewise.

"I understand that you will be helping my son tackle our problematic Spidren."

"I am looking forward to it, sir."

"Are you aware of how odd that remarks sounds from a young lady?"

"With all due respect, sir, I am probably more aware of the oddness than you are."

"And your father—does he have any sons?"

Rissa answered each question as it came. And there were a lot of them. How much experience had she had fighting Immortals? Fighting bandits? Making court appearances? And did she present herself as a lady or as a knight? When had she found the time to learn the traditional skill of a noblewoman? How many languages could she speak? Could she, in fact, embroider pillows, arrange flowers, keep accounts, and ration food during an unexpected siege?

Fortunately, the questions ended just as abruptly as they had begun when the Baron announced that he had no appetite for dessert and retired to his bedchamber.

"Sorry about that," Byrn murmured as soon as his father had disappeared.

"Most of it was irrelevant anyway," Amicia added as she signaled for the servants to bring out dessert for the three of them. "He forgets that he married a much younger woman. I plan to outlive him by at least three decades, during which time I shall amuse myself by managing the Briarwood accounts." She smiled smugly. "As I have done for the past twenty years." She shook her head fondly and then turned her gaze towards Rissa. "And I have only two questions for you."

Rissa swallowed.

"Can you make him smile?"

Rissa glanced at Byrn, who grinned widely as his mother nodded her approval.

"And would you care for a bit of sweetened cream atop your cake?"

"Yes." Rissa went lightheaded in relief. "Please."

_So, that's all for now. Reviews are always appreciated and I hope to have the next chapter up by mid-July, assuming that leak in my ceiling doesn't signal the imminent collapse and/or flooding of my home. Here's your sneak peak: _

"Byrn," Rissa said tightly. "I'm not sure we can do this."

PDPD

Penelope groaned when she woke to a knock at their door. Any message that came this late at night meant it was actually get-up-get-dressed-and-get-to-the-stables early.

"On the bright side," Dalton muttered. "It looks like we won't have to lead that training exercise tomorrow after all."


	28. Surprise

_Hello again and thanks to all who reviewed the last chapter! This installment takes place a few weeks after the last and begins at Briarwood. It contains and alludes to characters belonging to Tamora Pierce. Enjoy! _

"Lunch?" Byrn asked.

Rissa smiled, surprised to realize it was the first word either of them had spoken in several hours. She felt like they'd said so much just by riding quietly together, their horses so close that their knees brushed occasionally.

"Definitely," she said. "We haven't really done anything to earn it, but I am hungry."

"It's not our fault the Spidren are all to lazy to come out in this cold."

"We didn't want to either," Rissa pointed out, dismounting and digging in her pack for their meat pastries.

"That wasn't so much laziness as lust." Byrn grinned and brushed snow off of a fallen log so that they could both sit.

"I really hope that's not what's keeping the Spidren in," Rissa said as she sat down beside him.

"I really did not need to hear that," Byrn hissed, clapping a hand over her mouth.

Rissa smiled against his palm and twisted away before he tweak her nose. He grinned and lunged after her, both of them tumbling off the log and into the snow. Laughing, Rissa wriggled away from him and then found herself falling through the snow and the loose dirt beneath it.

She landed—hard enough to bruise her hip—on the packed earth of what appeared to be an animal den. Only it was far larger and filled with large silver globules. It took her a few seconds of frantic thought to recognize them as Spidren eggs and realize how much danger she was in.

"Byrn," Rissa said tightly. "I'm not sure we can do this."

He stuck his head down and surveyed the massive breeding ground. "Not by ourselves anyway," he agreed. Even if none of these hatched, he would still have grossly underestimated the size of the Spidren population in Briarwood. "Have I mentioned that I hate it when you're right about these things?"

"Me too," Rissa muttered. "Give me your hand. We'd better get out of here before the parents return."

PDPD

Amicia saw their faces as they returned and immediately ordered them to sit down and start talking. She listened intently to their report, occasionally murmuring impressively potent curses under her breath.

Then they all sat silently, pretending to examine a map of Briarwood that Byrn had left stretched across the table.

"I think I'll write my sister and ask her to bring a small army and a batch of ginger biscuits," Rissa muttered absently.

"Actually," Byrn's mother put in, "I think we'd better speed things along and send a royal messenger. And we might need some cinnamon cakes alongside our ginger biscuits." She winced. "I might even say the emergency calls for apple dumplings."

Byrn nodded. "You inform the kitchen and I'll send to the king."

PDPD

Penelope groaned when she woke to a knock at their door. Any message that came this late at night meant it was actually get-up-get-dressed-and-get-to-the-stables early.

"On the bright side," Dalton muttered, rolling out of bed. "It looks like we won't have to lead that training exercise tomorrow after all."

"This will undoubtedly be worse," Penelope said, pulling a blanket around her shoulders and hurrying to fling open the door.

Wyldon was waiting outside of it and looking a little too old to be up in the middle of the night. Penelope told him so.

"Nonsense, Proudcreek." Wyldon drew back his shoulders until he looked like his usual imperturbable self. "The occasional emergency is like a beneficial tonic. They keep me feeling young and limber."

"Where's this one?" Dalton asked, coming to wrap an arm around Penelope's shoulders.

"Briarwood. That's why I've woken you. The Spidren problem is considerably larger than Lord Byrn had anticipated. They'll need a small squadron of knights and a few Rider groups and I thought you might—"

"Of course," Dalton agreed. "Only we—"

"Obviously, I will make myself available to lead the training exercise you so carefully planned. It will give me an ideal vantage point from which to assess its efficacy."

Penelope nodded at Wyldon and then glanced at Bandit, who was circling her legs. She didn't want to drag him along on a Spidren hunt.

"I'll also attend to your dog until your return," Wyldon added, raising one hand. Bandit's hind end sank as though it were weighted with lead and his nose lifted to point at Wyldon's hand.

"Thanks," Dalton murmured, somewhat shocked by his dog's unprecedented perfect posture.

"Good luck," Wyldon told them. Then he smiled at Bandit. "Come along," he said and the dog trotted alongside him, healing perfectly.

"He's still got it," Penelope muttered as they watched him depart. "Even if he's getting old."

Wyldon waited until they were out of sight before rewarding Bandit with a large chunk of beef jerky.

PDPD

Dalton knocked on Vina's door and found her awake and dressed.

"It's Rissa, isn't it?" she asked, as Karyna came to join her at the door.

Dalton nodded. "We're leading a force out to help tackle the Spidren. We'll leave as soon as everyone is ready." He glanced at Karyna. "Isn't your group supposed to be on call for duty tonight?"

She shrugged and started pulling on her boots. "They were all starting a fairly wild card game when I snuck out."

"Which might have been sweet of you," Vina put in pointedly "if it weren't an utterly idiotic risk to take while you're being considered for promotion."

"A promotion I don't want because it would take me away from—"

"Sweet and idiotic aren't mutually exclusive categories," Dalton remarked, interrupting before the conversation could escalate into a disruptive argument.

They both glanced irritably at him. Then Karyna squeezed Vina's shoulder. "We'll argue when your sister's safe. I should run back to my barracks. Is your window jumpable?"

"Just." Vina kissed her cheek. "Don't lock your knees."

"And don't bother sneaking back to your bunk," Dalton added, " just start saddling ponies and then you can be the first one ready, which will be a good reason to recommend you for a promotion." He saw her open her mouth to protest. "That's an order," he added cheerfully as she disappeared out Vina's window.

"You can't just interfere—" Vina began.

"And you are to meet us at the stables in ten minutes," Dalton told Vina. "And to remember that you're not a squire; you can leave the palace whenever you wish and probably accompany a Rider Group—or their Captain—wherever you choose."

"I know," Vina said quietly. "In my head anyway. Just not in my gut."

Dalton nodded. "Maybe telling her would help," he said. Then he shut her door, grabbed the pack Penelope had left for him, and started for the stables.

PDPD

Penelope's banging on the smithy door woke Jason, whose cursing after he stubbed his toe on his way to the door woke Selena and Jeck. They started throwing together Selena's gear while Penelope shouted an explanation up the stairs.

"I chose to become a smith," Jason informed Penelope, glaring pointedly towards the door she'd left open, "so that I could work in a nice warm room and never be woken for middle-of-the-night emergencies."

"How sad for you," Penelope muttered, "that sounds awfully boring."

"It could be worse," Jeck said, carrying Selena's bag down. "He could be gleefully enjoying watching you suffer."

"I'm not an idiot. I know better than to mock the nice ladies with the sharp objects this early in the morning."

"So he claims, anyway," Selena said, pulling on her tunic as she walked downstairs. "Don't let him do anything stupid while I'm away," she added, addressing both smiths at once. Then she stopped beside Jeck and wrapped her arms around him.

He kissed her and handed over her bag. "Take care."

She smiled at Jason and scratched Shadow behind the ears. "Ready," she told Penelope, though she doubled back to kiss Jeck once more as they left.

PDPD

They knights and Riders managed to shave a few days off the usual journey to Briarwood, but they didn't have any time to rest upon their early afternoon arrival. Byrn and Rissa met them with a contingent of Briarwood men (and also with Jess, the former bandit turned laundress, who waved shyly at Penelope.)

Dalton and Penelope maneuvered their mounts up beside Rissa and Byrn and immediately began strategizing.

"Ideally," Dalton said, "we'd want to burn out eggs or hatchlings. The usual concern would be avoiding a forest fire. But with all this snow and slush on the ground…"

"The difficulty will be starting one," Byrn finished.

"So," Penelope said. "We're probably going to have to do this the messy, old-fashioned way."

"With or without horses?" Karyna asked as she caught up.

"Probably with," Rissa decided. "That'll give us a chance at trampling the eggs and hatchlings."

"But how are we going to get horses into the den?" Byrn asked.

Rissa shrugged. "The hole I fell through can't be the only entrance. The parents couldn't have fit through it; they must have come in another way when they went to…uh, deposit their offspring."

"Lovely," Vina muttered. "How are we going to find it?"

"What if we try following them?" Jess interrupted quietly to point at a cluster of Spidren that were just visible through the trees.

PDPD

They arrived at either the best or the worst possible moment—just as the eggs were beginning to hatch. This meant that there weren't too many hatchlings running around yet. It also meant that the Spidren they'd followed were only a small portion of the many angry adults swarming the area. The only advantage to this was that the Spidren came to attack them in the open instead of drawing them into the cavern with the eggs.

"Deal with the adults first," Dalton called. "We'll try to tackle the rest once it's safe. And stay in pairs—we don't won't anyone getting separated and spun up in webbing."

A knife flew past Dalton's arm just as he finished shouting these orders. He turned to reprimand the Briarwood men behind him and realized that the true culprit was a Spidren—several of them were carrying knives.

"I guess they just don't feel nasty enough in their natural unarmed state," Byrn said.

"They're clearly compensating for something," Rissa added impishly.

And then all chaos broke loose. The horses proved to be both assets (they gave the riders increased height and their flailing hooves helped keep the Spidren at bay) and liabilities (the Spidren were found of using their webbing to yank the horses' legs out from beneath their riders).

Dalton's brain became a blur. He didn't even notice when they began winning the battle. He was too busy try to kill Spidren, stay alive, protect his horse, direct the Briarwood men, and keep an eye on Jess. (Jess, meanwhile, had decided to disregard his orders and make herself useful by slipping around stealing brandy from all of the packs and dousing the eggs and hatchlings in it before setting them on fire. This worked remarkable well, but it also further enraged the Spidren parents, whose bodies proved sufficiently flammable to maintain the blaze if they were pushed into it. Unfortunately for everyone, they also produced a thick and foul-smelling smoke.) It seemed that one instant Dalton was slicing off Spidren limbs and the next he was dismounting to assess the damage as he shouted orders to get the wounded clear of the carnage.

PDPD

"Dalton!"

He spun around at the sound of Penelope's voice and started sprinting towards it. Then he spotted her kneeling in the center of their battlefield, her shirt completely blood-soaked, and missed a step in alarm.

"It can't be hers," Karyna said, though she too hurried towards Penelope.

"She wouldn't be upright and yelling if she'd lost that much," Vina agreed.

"It's Selena," Penelope said as he arrived and Dalton's gut took a second unpleasant plunge. "And mostly horse blood, I think," she added. "I hope, anyway. I need help shifting this dead pony off of her."

Penelope and Dalton and Karyna managed to free Selena's still form while Vina searched for Rissa.

"Solid pulse," Dalton said, fingering Selena's throat. "And she's breathing fine."

"I can't find any sign of injury but this." Penelope pointed to the bump on Selena's head. "It's probably just a bad concussion."

"We'll get her back to Briarwood and see what the healer can do," Dalton said. "And what about you? How many small but serious cuts and scrapes is that blood hiding?"

Penelope paused for a moment's self-assessment. "None. I'm not even going to tell you it's only a scratch because I don't think I have any." She sighed. "I do have some nasty bruises and a couple of minor burns though, so please hug me gently." She smiled against his chest as he did so. "And let me throw a quick field bandage around that cut on your left forearm."

"You're impossible."

"And you love me for it," she agreed, starting her bandage.

Vina returned with Rissa and Byrn as she was working. Byrn was hobbling from a knife wound in his calf and leaning heavily on Rissa, who was looking rather tired herself.

"Funny," Penelope remarked. "We never quite appreciate just how tall and heavy they are until they need help walking."

"And then we don't exactly appreciate it," Rissa muttered.

Dalton scowled and turned to Byrn. "Any sense of the casualties among your men?"

"Three men killed, four seriously wounded. That's it—assuming no one kills Jess for taking all the brandy."

"Karyna?"

She glanced away from Vina, who was helping her clean off her face with a wet handkerchief. "Our Captain's been killed," she said dully. "And two Riders have broken arms. We've also lost several ponies, but we should have enough mounts to get everyone back to Briarwood."

"If your Captain…" Vina squeezed her hand sympathetically. "Does that make you…"

"The new one." She nodded. "I'm not sure I can—I definitely didn't want it to happen this way. He was good friend. He was going to retire and get married."

"You're doing fine already," Penelope said. "Leadership is mostly a matter of guilt and frustration with a liberal dose of responsibility mixed in."

"Speaking of which," Byrn muttered. Then he turned to shout orders preparing for the ride back to Briarwood.

PDPD

It turned out that they were one mount short, so Jess rode double with Penelope for the journey back to Briarwood. She stayed quiet for most of the ride and did not speak until Byrn's home was within view.

"Thanks," she whispered.

"No problem."

"I mean for—"

"Really," Penelope said. "I wouldn't want to see you languishing in jail. What you did today matters more than what you might have done last year."

"I wouldn't have languished. I'd have learned to pick pockets."

Penelope chuckled. "That's why I'd rather see you out and joining the Riders."

"Wait," Karyna said. "You're sending us a criminal with a known tendency to disregard orders during battle if she thinks she can be more useful elsewhere?"

"Well," Penelope said uncertainly. Then she squared her shoulders. "Yes. Is that a problem?"

"No. It's just that we don't usually get such perfect candidates."

Penelope covered Jess's ears with her hands. "Then I'd keep this one far away from Pirates' Swoop."

PDPD

Penelope and Dalton took their very late supper at Selena's bedside and then waited for her to wake, insisting that all of the others go to bed.

"I'm not sure whether I pity or envy Jeck at moments like this," Dalton muttered seating himself in the armchair beside the bed.

"But he isn't even here." Penelope glanced out the window and then back at Dalton.

"Exactly." Dalton reached out a hand and drew her into his lap. "He has to watch her ride away—which I admit, I would hate—but he gets to see her come home too. And he doesn't have to watch all the scary, messy, might-not-be-breathing, might-be-killed stuff in between."

"Except in his imagination," Penelope pointed out.

Dalton nodded. "But even then, he doesn't have to wonder whether any injury is his fault—whether he could have prevented it by doing something differently."

Penelope laid her fingers gently over the bandage on his forearm. "I feel the same way. About you, I mean. I'm pretty sure I don't envy Selena and Jeck. It's painful just watching them say goodbye—not that they actually say much—they just sort of stand and…" she shook her head and dropped it silently against his chest.

"I know." He sighed and wrapped an arm around her, pressing his nose into her hair.

PDPD

Selena woke just after midnight with absolutely no memory of the battle in which she'd been injured.

"Probably that's just as well," she decided after they'd filled her in. "Clearly I had an embarrassing and vulnerable moment."

"Or just a really unlucky one," Penelope added. "How do you feel now?"

"I think I might need a day or two to rest before we head back to the palace," Selena admitted. "I'm still waiting for the four of you to make the room stop spinning."

"There's no rush," Dalton told her.

"We're not far from Proudcreek," Penelope said slowly. "I think perhaps we could visit my aunt while recover."

"Alright." Dalton turned to gaze curiously at his wife.

"I—she did encourage me to…do all of this in her own way. I ought to thank her for that. And see her. I haven't seen her for years."

"Good," he said. "I look forward to meeting her."

"You remain blissfully ignorant," she informed him.

"We'll leave tomorrow," he said easily. "Midmorning, maybe. I think I should do this on a full night's sleep."

_You, dear readers, will have a few weeks to wait before meeting Penelope's aunt. But she will be in the next episode:_

"Sorry, we've arrived so late—" Penelope began.

"Well then, don't bother wasting any more time apologizing for it," her aunt snapped. But she smiled as she surveyed her niece. "I'd tell you that you look just like your mother now, but by some lucky miracle you got your father's nose instead."

_In the meantime, I hope everyone is having a wonderful summer and I always appreciate your reviews…_


	29. Relative Wishes

_Hello again and many thanks to all who reviewed the last chapter. Chapter 29 picks up the morning after the late-night ending of chapter 28 (in which the Briarwood Spidren were slaughtered and Selena was injured). Enjoy!_

Only Vina accompanied Dalton and Penelope on the visit to Proudcreek. Rissa opted to stay in Briarwood with Selena and Byrn. ("I want to stay near him now," she told Penelope, "because I'll try to leave soon.") Karyna was invited to accompany them, but she needed to get her Rider Group back to Corus and see to the burial of its previous Captain.

The three travelers left around midmorning and reached Proudcreek at sunset. Penelope led the way directly to the stables and there they encountered her great aunt, Lady Nerina of Proudcreek, just as she and her stable master returned from their afternoon ride.

Dalton stopped untacking his horse to study the woman he'd heard so much about. She was tall and of indeterminate age—her features seemed both weathered and well-preserved. She wore split skirts for riding and had her graying hair pulled into a loose braid. And she was regarding them with a frown that might have been either amused or disapproving, or possibly both.

"Penelope," she said.

"Sorry, we've arrived so late in—" Penelope began.

"Well then, don't bother wasting any more time apologizing for it," her aunt snapped. But she smiled as she surveyed her niece. "I'd tell you that you look just like your mother now, but by some lucky miracle you got your father's nose instead."

Penelope smiled. "You look just as lovely as always."

Nerina raised an eyebrow. "And you've gotten better at lying."

"Among other things," Penelope agreed.

"Including horse care," Nerina said. "Don't bother helping them, Hadley, they'll see to their own mounts and come straight in for supper. I eat as early as ever," she told Penelope.

Hadley—who didn't seem to have changed at all since Penelope's childhood—squeezed Penelope's shoulder in greeting and went about her business.

Then Nerina frowned at Penelope. "And who are they, by the way?" She gestured towards Dalton. "I assume this is the fellow you insisted on marrying."

Dalton nodded and extended a hand. Nerina shook it firmly and continued to study him.

"I can almost see why," she remarked.

Dalton smiled. "I also have excellent teeth and passable manners."

"I was more concerned about the condition of your brains," she informed him. "If my niece hasn't driven you crazy after—what is it now? Four years of marriage—there's something wrong with them."

"I can assure you that she's done so many times over during the past eight years or so."

"And yet you married her anyway and expect me to be favorably impressed by it?" Nerina glanced at Penelope's scowl.

"I believe that most of the people who drive us crazy fall into two categories," Dalton replied. "We either hate them for it or we love them anyway. I think Penelope belongs in the latter category for both of us."

Nerina shot him something like a cheerful affirmative scowl.

"He might not be sane," Hadley remarked from a nearby stall, "but he is sharp."

"And there's a rare third category that we love to hate," Vina added. "I'm their former squire, by the way."

"Weren't there two squires?" Nerina turned her gaze from Vina to Penelope.

"Oops." Penelope shrugged. "Maybe we misplaced one."

"Don't think that you're too old to be swatted for impudence just because you're married and a knight," Nerina warned.

"Not at all." Penelope darted in to hug her aunt. "I was just assuming you'd gone old and soft."

"Never," her aunt growled, hugging her back.

"She can't help it," Dalton explained. "Her knight master practically rewarded her for impudence."

"Pity," Nerina muttered as she resumed grooming her horse. "I was hoping someone would undo my early influence."

"It's just as well they didn't," Vina said, "otherwise I wouldn't be here. And you aren't missing anything but repetition—Rissa looks exactly like me."

PDPD

Lady Nerina not only ate early, she also ate with individuals who might have been considered 'the help' by many nobles. The stable master Hadley sat at her right hand and the cook, the gardener, the groundskeeper, the huntsman, and several of their assistants filled out the table. Dalton and Vina felt quite at home with the arrangement, which Nerina claimed was a cynical strategy for ensuring the best possible food and service.

"We know better," Hadley informed her as she served herself potatoes.

"It's because you'd be bored without us," the groundskeeper added as he passed parsnips to Vina.

"And she actually cares about what happens here and wants to hear from the people who really run the place." Penelope started carving roast for the entire table.

Nerina shrugged almost bashfully. "And then the practice does ensure that I only get interesting guests."

"We're flattered," Vina assured her. "And honored."

"Very," Dalton agreed.

"Keep it up," Nerina told them, "and I'll tell you about the time Penelope got herself lost in a raspberry bush."

"Please do." Dalton grinned. "Was she rescuing a kitten?"

"I was three." Penelope had developed a faint, adorable blush.

"She wound up covered in juice and terrified the gardener into thinking she'd been hurt."

"I have to hear this," Dalton said. "I'll trade you for the story of the time she decided to walk over a rotting log to get across an icy stream."

"Done." Nerina reached over to shake Dalton's hand.

Penelope smiled and wondered if there wouldn't later be a story about the time she'd decided it would be a good idea to introduce Dalton to her aunt.

PDPD

Nerina caught Penelope's elbow as they were walking towards the sitting room after dinner.

"Your prickly old aunt is rather proud of you," she said.

"You're the one who put the dream in my head in the first place with your stories." Penelope squeezed her aunt's fingers. "And kept it there by sending me off to train."

"I had the easy part." Nerina smiled. "And that isn't the only thing I'm proud of. Having him"—she gestured to Dalton, who had fallen behind them to examine a painting—"having helped two other lady knights (and I approve of Vina as much as one can after a few hours acquaintance)." She sighed contentedly. "Love…happiness…compassion. You have everything I could have wished for you."

Penelope swallowed. "And my parents—do you think they would be happy?"

"Your father—"she frowned—"well, we didn't ever speak much. I imagine he'd be flummoxed and a little flattered—he was a warrior after all, and he certainly wanted a son to follow in his footsteps." She shrugged. "As for your mother…it's also difficult to say. You're older now than she was when she died. She'd have been pleased—a little puzzled maybe, but definitely pleased with Dalton. And I'd have bullied her into being proud of the rest."

Penelope hugged Nerina suddenly, startling her. "Thanks. But you know, if they were alive, you wouldn't have raised me and I probably wouldn't be nearly so interesting."

Nerina shook her head. "I took you because you were kin and because you already had a certain spark about you. You and I, Penelope, we don't do ordinary."

PDPD

"I'm glad we did that," Penelope said once they'd breakfasted with her aunt (and Hadley) and set off again for Briarwood.

"Good," Dalton said. "I think she might invite us back someday soon."

Penelope smiled. "I'd just forgotten how sweet and knowing and loving she can be, even after so many years alone. I mean, I never thought about it when I was a child, but it seems almost sad that she's never had anyone to…"

"Oh, I don't believe that she's been entirely alone all these years," Dalton said carefully. "Certainly not for meals and afternoon rides."

"You mean you think…" Penelope glanced back towards the Proudcreek stables.

"Oh." Vina grinned wickedly. "Most definitely."

"Oh." Penelope inhaled thoughtfully.

"Well, so does Dalton—think, I mean, in general and specifically that your aunt loves her stable master specifically and other women in general." Vina rolled her eyes.

"I see. And you?"

"Are you asking if I'm attracted to your aunt?"

"Don't answer that," Dalton muttered, wondering if his horse was walking calmly enough for him to try covering his ears. "Either of you."

"Don't be absurd," Vina said. "Aside from the fact that she's old and delightfully cranky, she reminds me entirely too much of you."

"I'd find that reassuring if it weren't so unnerving," Penelope said, casting one last glance back at Proudcreek.

PDPD

As soon as she'd taken care of all pressing Rider business, Karyna knocked quietly on the open smithy door.

"Come in," Jeck called and then he blinked in surprise when she did so. "Weren't you with—"

"Yes. Selena's fine now."

Jeck had spent enough time around soldiers to understand that Selena had been decidedly not fine in the recent past. He gestured for Karyna to sit down on a workbench, but he kept standing beside his tools for distraction.

"I just thought someone should fill you in so you don't get scared by any of the gossip that might precede their arrival. Anyway—"Karyna settled her hands in her lap and looked straight at Jeck—"Selena was knocked out during the battle, but luckily one of the Rider ponies collapsed on top of her. Actually, it was one of the Captain's ponies, but we found his body half-way across the field and…" She realized she was rambling and shook her head to clear it.

"Anyway, that kept her relatively safe and warm during the fight." She didn't tell Jeck what a scare they'd had afterwards, but he seemed to know—he clenched his fingers tightly around his hammer and studied her face.

"How long?"

"We don't know exactly. The ride back to Briarwood took a few hours—we rigged a stretcher for her—and then she didn't wake for some time after that. But the healers at Briarwood said they didn't think there would be any permanent damage, though she'll probably have headaches and dizzy spells for the next few months."

"Oh." Jeck set the hammer carefully on a table.

"I'm sorry I don't know more," Karyna said. "I was distracted by taking command of the Tricksters and arranging for—I didn't get a chance to—"

"I'm glad to hear whatever you can tell me." Jeck tried to smile. "How is she handling it?"

"When I left she was frustrated with her slow recovery and impatient to be home." Karyna smiled. "She's lucky to have you waiting for her."

Jeck sighed. "And you? Are you alright?"

"Me?"

Jeck shrugged. "Well, I guess we both love people we aren't supposed to look at—I feel like that should mean something."

"Other than the fact that we're both irrational?" she asked.

He nodded. "So?"

"I'm—well, I got everyone here, but mostly I'm scared and clueless and tired."

"Sounds about how I felt when I first took over the smithy." He smiled. "I can offer you an honest, no-strings-attached hug."

"I—thanks." She stepped over and set her head against his shoulder.

At this moment, Jason returned to the smithy.

"Jeck," he sputtered. "What? Who?"

"I was just getting some news about Selena from Vina's—" he hesitated, but Karyna had clapped a hand over her mouth to stifle her laughter and gestured for him to supply his own noun—"girl, Rider, sweetheart—"

"I see." Jason studied Karyna a moment, taking in her tall frame and her bold grey eyes. "That's a shame for all the unattached men in this palace."

"That's a compliment of some kind, I presume."

"Of the highest order," Jason assured her.

"Feel free to beat him over the head with the nearest available implement," Jeck told Karyna.

She smiled. "Perhaps some other evening. I should be going now."

Jeck nodded and squeezed her hand. "Good luck and thanks."

"Wait," Jason called after her. "Do you have sisters?"

She grinned back at them and shook her head.

"Cousins?"

"They're boys," she called over her shoulder.

"Friends?"

She turned around and shrugged deliberately.

"He's desperate," Jeck explained. "He doesn't know what he's saying."

"Maybe I'll be able to scrounge someone up."

PDPD

Selena was feeling just well enough to travel (at a slow pace with plenty of breaks) by the time Penelope, Dalton, and Vina returned to Briarwood. They stayed long enough to enjoy supper with Byrn and his mother (and for Penelope to track down Jess and make sure she had plans and permission to ride down to Corus in time for the Riders' spring training.) Then they made an early morning departure so as to allow plenty of time for Selena's slow pace.

Rissa's toes twitched as she watched them ride away and she knew that it was time for her to do the same. If she didn't go soon, she might not ever try. And that terrified her. She sighed and caught Byrn's eye and he swallowed and nodded.

"Are you sure you want to leave tomorrow?" Byrn asked that evening. They were lingering at the supper table after his parents had left.

Rissa swallowed back the lump in her throat and nodded. "It seems like a good time now that everyone else has gone." She blinked and sighed. "And you don't need my help with the Spidren anymore."

He stretched a hand across the table to wrap his fingers over hers. "I think I could probably talk you out of it."

Rissa winced and tried to muster up the energy to lie and tell him he couldn't.

"But I'm not going to try," he added.

"Thanks." She lifted his hand to her cheek. "That in itself makes part of me want to stay."

"I know." He smiled crookedly. "Let me help you pack."

"There isn't much." She stood reluctantly. "It won't take long."

"Good." He draped an arm around her shoulders, kissing her cheek. "I hope that means you might be leaving a few things here."

Rissa tilted her face towards his. "Possibly."

PDPD

Jeck and Wyldon were the only ones standing beside the stables awaiting the late return of Selena and the other knights. (Shadow and Bandit were with them, but too busy chewing on one another's ears and chasing one another's tails to be described as standing entities.) Jeck watched the dogs and tried to ignore the painful popping that came from the joints in Wyldon's hands as he flexed his fingers and wrapped them casually around the hilt of his sword. It was a little harder to ignore Wyldon's muttered curses at the damp weather.

"Have you considered adjusting the hilt, sir?" Jeck asked cautiously. "You might be more comfortable gripping a larger one."

"But I—"Wyldon was a little too unsettled by the notion of his own comfort (and by Jeck's show of concern for it) to form a complete thought.

"I don't think it would interfere to much with the balance of the weapon," Jeck added thoughtfully.

"Perhaps not. But it seems a minor matter. I wouldn't want to trouble any craftsmen with it."

"You wouldn't be. We secretly enjoy puzzling difficult things out." Jeck smiled as he heard the sound of horseshows against cobblestones. "Bring it by tomorrow," he insisted. "It will give you an excuse—er, opportunity—to visit Selena."

"I suppose I might," Wyldon said after a moment, "so long as—she looks like she's slipping." He started towards Selena's horse.

But she'd only been shifting her weight as she prepared to dismount, which she did clumsily before running towards them. She squeezed Wyldon's arm and buried her face against Jeck's chest.

He kissed the top of her head and tried to tilt her face up to greet her properly.

She moaned in involuntary protest. The running, she realized, had been a mistake. Her vertigo was back with a vengeance. She had to grab hold of Jeck's shirt and settle her forehead against his shoulder to keep from falling over.

"Don't do anything stupid or sudden," Wyldon ordered. "Just grab your gear and go get some rest. You aren't done recovering." He tapped her shoulder. "I'll deal with her horse," he told Jeck.

"I—"Selena began to protest and then thought better of it—"evening, sir."

"Alright?" Jeck asked, steering her away.

"Sorry," Selena muttered as she stumbled over an uneven cobblestone.

"Don't be." Jason seemed to materialize from the fog already carrying her pack. "You're actually fairly entertaining. Even when you're only attempting to walk in a straight line."

"And you're actually a little useful," Selena shot back. "Even when you're being evil." She smiled at Jeck as he wrapped an arm around her waist. "And you're—"she swallowed—"I'm so glad to see you." They kissed carefully. "Even when you seem to be spinning."

_That's all for now folks! Neal will be back in the next chapter, which should be ready in August…eventually…_

"Good luck," Neal said cheerfully, clapping Penelope around the shoulders.

"That's reassuring," Penelope muttered.

"It wasn't meant to be," Neal informed her. "It's just that I've noticed I tend to have better luck when I wish you good luck."


	30. Metaphysics and Make Believe

_Hello again! My thanks to all who reviewed the last chapter and my apologies for the delay in updates—on the upside, I've acquired part-time tutoring work and written a longish and fluff-filled installment. This chapter takes places about two months after the last one, in which Penelope visited her aunt and Jeck and Wyldon discussed weaponry while awaiting Selena's return. Enjoy! _

Shortly before sunset, Vina and Karyna stopped by the practice court where Penelope and Dalton had chosen to spend their free afternoon (after ignoring Neal's assertion that this defeated the point of having a free afternoon).

"We just thought we'd stop off and say goodbye," Vina said. "We're leaving first thing tomorrow."

"Where to?" Penelope asked, perfectly prepared to call it an evening since she'd just defeated Dalton and evened out their scores.

"I'm helping with spring training for the new recruits," Karyna explained. "The camp will be at Pirates' Swoop again this year."

"And you're going with her?" Penelope asked Vina.

"I'm taking George up on his standing invitation," she answered, "and acting as—"she turned to Karyna—"what was the official term we cooked up? An 'independent supplementary supervisory resource for the new trainees'". She grinned.

"Poor things are going to have a very long summer," Dalton muttered.

"So are we," Penelope said, smiling as she thought of their own plans to leave the palace for the summer.

"Anyway," Vina said, stepping up to hug Penelope. "I'll miss you, I'll see you in the fall, and you have my permission to track Rissa down and tie her up in a tree if she doesn't write often enough."

"We'd do the same to you," Dalton said, hugging her, "but I'm sure you'll prove to be a better correspondent."

Vina nodded, chuckling, and turned to go. Karyna smiled at both of them and followed her.

Turning to watch them go, Penelope spotted one of the first year pages practicing with an absolutely unacceptable stance and hurried over to correct him before Wyldon could see him.

Dalton shook his head slowly and smiled hesitantly as he watched his former squire walk away.

"Karyna," Dalton called after a moment. "I'd like a word before you go."

The Rider cast her eyes skyward and waved Vina on ahead. "Please let it not be evisceration."

"Evisceration?" Dalton repeated.

Karyna flinched. "Just the sound makes me a little squeamish—especially if it's whispered. And it's just about the only thing I haven't been threatened with yet. Decapitation, disembowelment, impalement, and all the other old standbys have been claimed already."

Dalton frowned. "Who's been threatening all this?"

"Rissa, Penelope, Byrn, Selena, and Jeck have all supplied the straightforward "break Vina's heart and I will kill you in the following unpleasant fashion" at one point or another over the years. I've also gotten barks from Bandit and a certainLook from Wyldon, but I might be misinterpreting those. Jason's been the most creative by far—he's threatened to stew me with vegetables and feed me to pigs." She tilted her head cheekily at him. "So what will you do?"

"Anything I add would be fairly redundant at this point." Dalton shrugged. "And I've experienced the impulse, but I've never entirely understood the point of threatening people not to break hearts. If you love someone, then nothing anyone says could be worse than what your mind would do to yourself. And if two people aren't happy together, no number of threats will hold them together. So it might feel satisfying to make one, but they don't have any real effect. Unless, or course, someone is angry or crazy enough to carry it out."

Karyna nodded. "I'll consider myself warned and lectured then. So, what words were you planning to exchange?"

"I was just going to ask you to keep an eye on Jess—it would mean a lot to Penelope—especially around George. "

Karyna smiled. "Right. Will do, sir."

PDPD

"So," Mindelan said as soon as they'd sat down to dine with her and explained Vina's departure. "What are you going to do now?"

"Well, in another month or so," Dalton began.

"Once the weather's perfect," Penelope put in. "We want to ride off for the summer."

"We'll make a sort of circuit around Tortall..."Dalton continued.

"Work for a few days wherever we're needed," Penelope added.

"Visit our families and wander back in the fall," Dalton finished.

"An _entire_ summer away?" Kel said. "That sounds delightful."

"We're looking forward to it," Penelope agreed. "But if that's too long, we could…"

"It isn't," Dom assured them, grinning wickedly. "She doesn't even have time to be jealous."

"I'll scrounge up a few minutes sometime before breakfast tomorrow for vicarious happiness." Kel smiled and then yawned. " Our spring camp for the soon-to-be-squires starts the day after tomorrow and I have almost everything ready." She reached over absently and nudged a forkful of carrot into Wilda's mouth, surprising her daughter into swallowing it. "I just need someone to stay here and be me for a few days."

Dalton frowned. "But that's a four or five person job."

Kel drew her features into a severe expression, which softened somewhat when she caught sight of Dom nodding his emphatic agreement. Then she turned her gaze back to Dalton and Penelope.

"Then the two of you should have no problem managing it."

"You want us to stay here and manage the younger pages' training?" Penelope asked dumbly.

"And attend to meetings with Wyldon and the king," Kel added easily. "And care for the twins, of course." She gestured to Wilda and Peregrine, who chose that moment to fling a bit of potato at his twin.

Penelope swallowed. "But—"

Dalton brushed a finger over her lips for quiet. "We'd be delighted."

"Good," Kel said. "You'll have all the usual responsibilities and the usual authority—and I expect you to use it. I don't want to come back and find out that disciplinary infractions have been going unpunished." She poured herself a little more wine and then pointedly refilled Penelope's glass. "And exercise it fairly—everyone gets the same amount for the same offense. Except for Kefira"—Kel glanced towards the library, where her daughter was probably studying with several other pages—"she gets double what we think she deserves so no one accuses us of favoritism."

"But—"Penelope began again.

"It's bad enough that we let her start several months too young," Kel explained. "I can't risk even the appearance of rule-bending." She sighed. "And be sure to keep a thorough record of everything you assign. Selena will help as usual, of course, but try not to ask too much of Wyldon. Only don't let him think you're trying to keep his life easy." She sighed again. "I think that's everything. Any questions?"

"Um," Dalton said, "just out of curiosity, who's going to be us while we're being you?"

"That sounds metaphysical," Dom told him. "You should take it to Queenscove."

PDPD

Ultimately, however, it was Penelope who took the matter to Neal. She announced that she was going to visit the infirmary almost as soon as they'd left dinner.

Dalton studied her face a moment. "Are you alright?"

Penelope looked away. "Nasty cramps," she muttered, which wasn't entirely untrue and was guaranteed to keep him from asking questions.

"See you in a bit then." Dalton kissed her temple and set off down the corridor.

PDPD

Penelope found Neal holding a book in one hand and reading from it as he puttered around the infirmary, making half-hearted attempts to tidy. Fortunately, Penelope knew which blend of herbs she wanted and grabbed a packet off the shelf and set it steeping without any assistance. By the time it was finished, Neal was reading in his armchair and had left the footstool free for Penelope. She swallowed the nasty herbal mess and then poured two mugs of proper tea, doctored both with milk and sugar, and handed one to Neal.

He snapped his book shut and smiled at her.

"Why are you really here?"

"Because I don't know how to be Mindelan and still be me and get it all done and not go crazy or get mad at everyone," she said, and then, realizing that it hadn't made any sense, gave Neal a full synopsis of the evening.

Neal nodded. "Right, training camp. I just barely wiggled out of coming along on that one."

"I wouldn't have minded it," Penelope muttered.

"But instead, she's asked you to stay here because she trusted you and Dalton would—"

"He did," Penelope snapped without meaning to.

"And are you mad?"

"It shouldn't even…I should be flattered."

"It isn't about logic." Neal tossed back the last of his tea. "Are you angry?"

"With Dalton?" Penelope sighed. "I don't know. He said exactly what I would have. It's just that he didn't stop to think first.

"Am I really hearing this from you?" Neal set his mug carefully on the floor.

Penelope glanced down at her hands. "I guess I don't usually bother thinking about whether or not I can do things before attempting them."

"I think that's been the secret to your success."

Penelope smiled and shrugged guiltily. "So I just wish he'd waited a moment or Kel hadn't assumed…" She sighed. "I feel like they just decided my destiny without—"

"Destiny? Dear girl, are you really expecting the week to last that long?"

Penelope shrugged sheepishly. "I just—I'm mad at myself for not volunteering when I should… only I'm not sure I want to—"

"Allow me to remind you that being is not becoming." Neal frowned. "Or, in any case, becoming generally has to happen first, logically speaking."

"I thought you said logic had nothing to do with it."

"I think I might have to tweak your nose again." Instead, he grabbed her chin and turned her face towards him. "Just because you're filling in for her doesn't mean you have to become her."

"I've been following in her footsteps." Penelope stacked her mug atop Neal's. "I feel I owe it to her to—"She yawned uncontrollably as the day caught up with her.

"To be your own person," Neal finished firmly. "I know. She's amazing and you admire her. But it doesn't mean you have to become a training master, a mother, a stoic introvert, a glaive expert, or a burden on my nerves."

"Aren't I already that last one?"

Neal smiled. "Of course, you can be any of those things, if they're what you want to be."

Penelope nodded, yawning again. "What I want to be right now is in bed, under the covers, and fast asleep."

"All very attainable goals." Neal resettled himself in his armchair and opened his book again. "Don't let your success scare you out of doing more."

Penelope stood up and kissed his forehead. "Thanks," she whispered. Then she tidied away their mugs on her way out.

PDPD

Penelope found both Bandit and Dalton already asleep—and on top of the covers, which made her chuckle softly.

Dalton blinked sleepily at her. "What?"

"You don't really look any younger in your sleep," she said. "You just look like yourself, only a little tired."

"And you always look just a little puzzled," he told her, "you frown a little like you're trying to sort something out."

"Like how"—Penelope stretched out beside him and kicked off her socks—"to apologize for this evening."

"Actually," he said, wrapping a lazy arm around her, "I was about to attempt the same." He sighed into her hair. "I shouldn't have assumed your consent. It's not as though we have to present a united front to Mindelan."

"I think we'll have to present united front to her twins and the pages and the—"

"So you're alright with this?"

"It can't be that difficult." She wrapped a hand over the arm he'd wrapped around her.

He chuckled. "I've heard that before."

PDPD

Dom knocked on their door the next morning to help them set up a cot for the twins to sleep on. There wasn't much room left in their chamber when they'd finished.

"Just as well," Dom told them, "less floor space for them to generate mess upon."

"And us," Penelope agreed, kicking their dirty clothes further into their designated corner. "And it's only for a week."

"Only a week." Dom nodded. "But Kel and I haven't been away from the palace in ages. I'll be honest: I'm looking forward, just a little, to an escape." He frowned. "Or I would be if we weren't bringing fifteen fourth-year pages along with us."

Dalton winced. "Well, nothing's ideal."

PDPD

Penelope and Dalton went to the stables the following morning to see Kel and her pages off and to collect the twins, arriving just as the pages began mounting up to leave. Neal and Selena were already there, helping her to make a final check of the supplies.

"Any further instructions?" Penelope asked, bracing herself for an onslaught of the kind of maternal detail (most of it concerning nutrition, defecation, and intellectual stimulation) that seemed to consume most noble mothers.

Kel sighed and kissed both children once more before nudging them towards their caretakers. "Don't let them do anything especially dangerous. Feed them four or five times a day. Make sure they sleep. And clean them if they start to smell."

"That's it?" Dalton asked, scooping Wilda up and setting her on his shoulders so she'd be able to wave goodbye.

"Keep them happy and clothing and vegetables are optional." Kel brushed something that looked suspiciously like a tear from her eye. "That'll be enough." She sighed. "That'll be plenty." Then she smiled at them and swung into the saddle quickly as though to keep from changing her mind.

"Good luck," Neal said cheerfully, clapping Penelope around the shoulders as they watched Kel and Dom lead the oldest pages away.

"That's reassuring," Penelope muttered, lifting Peregrine onto her hip.

"It wasn't meant to be," Neal informed her. "It's just that I've noticed I tend to have better luck when I wish you good luck."

"I'll tell your wife if you spend the afternoon gambling at cards," Penelope threatened.

"I'm playing against her actually," Neal said.

"That's why he needs every scrap of luck possible," Selena said. Then she smiled at Penelope. "I'll be in the smithy if you need me."

"When," Penelope corrected.

But this didn't happened. By some fluke accident of luck or divine intervention, all of the pages behaved perfectly and managed to avoid all potential mishaps. They didn't have even so much as a thrown horseshoe to deal with. And the three-year-olds, if possible, were even better. They ate well, napped well, cheerfully followed Penelope and Dalton around the practice courts, and refrained from sticking small objects up their noses.

In fact, the four of them managed without any hiccups until bedtime. Then Wilda burst into tears as Penelope was helping her into her nightgown. Peregrine joined her and Penelope was very tempted to. Instead, she knelt and scooped Wilda up, carrying her over to the cot.

"What's the matter?"

"I want my ma now."

"I know," Penelope murmured. _Me too. _"But right now, it's time to go to sleep."

"We can't," Wilda wailed.

"I'm sorry," Penelope said reflexively. "I don't sing lullabies." This, at least, made them stop crying.

"We're too old for them," Peregrine informed her, with all his injured-almost-four-year-old dignity.

"We want a story," Wilda added, sniffling.

"Alright," Dalton said easily. He sat down at the foot of their cot. "We'll tell you about when we took down the snow cats."

The twins shivered happily as he pulled the blankets up over them and Bandit leapt up to settle between them. Penelope smiled at the four of them and then sat down cross-legged on the floor, curling her back against Dalton's legs, to listen and supply details Dalton overlooked.

PDPD

Drills the next morning were an overall success. Only one page was injured. Unfortunatelythis page happened to be the training master's daughter, who earned herself a bloody nose by standing too near her neighbor during a staff exercise.

The injury was more messy than painful, but Penelope felt responsible for it and, since drills were nearly over, she escorted Kefira to the infirmary.

"I'm sorry." Penelope yawned. "I should have been paying more attention to—

"It wasn't your fault. I shouldn't have been talking to Jarif during drills, then we wouldn't have been too close."

"But I should have spotted it," Penelope protested, pulling open the infirmary door. And she might have spotted it if Jarif weren't one of Fira's usual partners in crime—this, at least, reassured her that the injury was a complete accident."I'm just so—" she yawned again.

"Tired?" Kefira put in as Neal wordlessly sized up the injury and lifted her onto a stool.

Penelope nodded. "It took us longer than expected to get your brother and sister to sleep."

"Did you tell them a bedtime story?" Fira ducked instinctively as Neal began to clean her nose.

"Several." Penelope put her hands on the girl's shoulders to help her hold still.

"From real life?" Fira asked, glancing up and then letting Neal get to work. "Or made up?"

"From real life."

"Well," Fira said, once Neal had finished cleaning and healing her nose, "that might have been your problem. True stories are alright in the afternoons, but they like make-believe at bedtime."

Penelope frowned. "But I don't know how to make up stories."

"Nonsense." Neal tossed away the cloth he'd been using. "All stories are true. What distinguishes the make believe ones is the extent to which they are embellished."

"So," Penelope said, "add monsters."

Neal nodded. "Or subtract injuries and complications if you want to streamline the story and get them to sleep. Or maybe claim the hero did what you wish you had done in retrospect." Neal grabbed a honey drop from the jar on his desk and slipped it into Kefira's waiting palm. "Imagine that you're writing a field report after an inadvisable amount of brandy."

"Oh." Penelope smiled. "I think I can try that."

PDPD

The next day, they woke to find that the previous night's spring storm had knocked a tree down across the practice courts, blocking most of them. Penelope's immediate response to the discovery (made by looking out the window) was to start wondering what they would do with the pages that morning; Peregrine and Wilda responded to the delay in their routine by whining hungrily for breakfast.

Unsure what she ought to be headed towards doing, Penelope started across the room and tripped over Dalton's boots. She wound up sprawled across the between the cot and the bed and feeling spectacularly incompetent. But at least it made the twins stop whining in favor of giggling.

"I see you've found my shoes," Dalton muttered apologetically.

"And the floor." Penelope sat up and Bandit sneezed sympathetically in her ear.

"I'll fix these two some porridge," Dalton offered, "if you'll find Selena and decide what to do about the tree."

"That's right," Penelope muttered, climbing to her feet, "take the easy job."

Dalton raised an eyebrow and wrapped a hand over her shoulder. "Do you want to trade?"

Penelope grinned, feeling only mildly hysterical. "Not really, thanks." She kissed Dalton's cheek, ruffled the twins' hair, hugged Dalton again, and then left for the smithy.

PDPD

"Jeck," Selena said after he'd rolled over for the eighth time in as many minutes, "just get up and work on whatever it is your thinking about."

"Wyldon's new grip," he explained, kissing her as he got out of bed.

"Oh, can I come see?" she sat up and started pulling her hair into a semblance of order.

"Please do," he said. "He's coming to collect it this afternoon and I want to make sure there aren't any obvious errors."

The wide grip on the hilt didn't quite fit in Selena's hand, which meant that it would be perfect for Wyldon. She told Jeck so immediately.

"Thanks." Jeck set the weapon back down on his workbench before kissing her. "I want Wyldon to—"

There was a sharp knock at the door. "Selena," Penelope called.

Jason opened the door, glanced once at Penelope's face, and decided to make the tea double-strength that morning.

"We have a small problem in the form of a large tree."

"I'm not sure we're going to be able to teach them much this morning," Selena said when Penelope had finished explaining.

"I could," Jeck said, "if you want."

They both turned to blink at him.

"I mean," Jeck said quickly, "not fighting or anything. But, if you were willing to break their routine and bring them here, I could teach them some basic weapon repair skills and show them how their swords are made."

"You could?" Penelope murmured gratefully.

"Well," Jeck said. "If they're going to consider themselves entitled to carry weapons, they ought to know as much as possible about where they come from."

Selena smiled. "I think I've heard that argument before."

"I think you've won it," Jeck said, taking one of her hands between his own in a way that made Selena hope she'd win their argument about noble marriage.

"I don't care who came up with it," Penelope informed them. "It's exactly what I wanted to hear and I'm bringing the pages at the ninth bell." She turned to Selena. "Kiss him for me, would you, while Jason and I figure out where to put everyone."

PDPD

For the most part, the pages sat quietly on the floor. Except for Kefira, who adored Jeck because he'd outfitted her with child-sized weapons for years and loyally asked lots of questions to fuel his talk. Unlike most of the pages' lecturers, Jeck did not squeeze as many syllables as possible into each sentence or expect the pages to take notes; he just explained his daily work in the simplest way possible. As a result, all the pages left with a solid understanding of weapon-making.

Most of them thanked him on the way out, grateful that they'd been given a quiet morning off from drills.

Only one third-year bully was rude enough to ask how he'd "gotten a hold of" Selena.

Jeck shrugged. "I imagine I had an easier time of it than you will finding weapons now that your business is no longer welcome here."

Penelope had a difficult time restraining her grin as she pulled the outraged boy from the smithy. The other pages made no such effort and a few actually laughed outright.

"Can you afford to cut off his family's custom like that?" Selena asked worriedly after they'd all left.

Jason grinned. "But just think of all the business he'll have gained from the kids who hate that page."

PDPD

Wyldon came in a short while later to claim his new sword.

"What you did this morning was most forward," he remarked, as he tested his grip on the blade and examined the handle.

"It was, sir," Jeck agreed calmly, his voice as neutral as Wyldon's had been.

Wyldon nodded. "Excellent work," he said, dropping a hair on the blade and watching it split, "but I expected no less." And then he walked away before Jeck could reply.

"You do realize," Jason said, "that hearing that from Wyldon is the equivalent of having anyone else write a hymn in your praise."

"And you do realize," Jeck countered, lowering himself to a bench, "that it was rather rattling." He ran one hand absently over Shadow's ears when she came to stand behind him. "I think I may need to sit quietly for a while and reconstruct my universe."

PDPD

"The bit about the talking bear was brilliant," Dalton remarked quietly once he was sure that the twins' breathing had eased entirely into sleep.

Penelope blinked up at Dalton, but didn't stir. Wilda was using her as a mattress and she refused to risk waking her. "I thought your tooth collecting troll was rather inspired."

"So did they, I suppose." Dalton reached over to sweep Wilda's hair off her face.

Penelope smiled. "Today went well," she said, completely believing it for the first time.

"Thanks to Jeck," Dalton said. "But the tree's still there. I'm not sure what we're going to do tomorrow."

"Somehow I don't think getting the stable master to lecture on horse breeding will go over as well," Penelope said.

"Not quite," Dalton said. "I'm afraid we'll have to pass up the opportunity to simultaneously garner complaints from bored students and outraged parents."

"Pity," Penelope muttered drowsily from under the warm weight of Wilda's sleeping form.

"Here's a thought, though. We could run a kind of mock battle exercise indoors."

"And how do we get royal permission for this one?" Penelope asked.

"It would provide valuable practice fighting at close quarters in case they ever have to subdue criminals in a home or tavern." He checked to be sure that Peregrine was sleeping comfortably—he seemed to be using Bandit as a pillow—and then pulled a blanket over his side of the cot. "Or in case they're ever attacked here."

"Of course," Penelope said. "Preparation for another attempted kidnapping in the pages wing."

"Oh right," Dalton said. "I'd almost forgotten the failed kidnapping part. I mean, I remember being attacked, but, at the time I was mainly preoccupied by the fact that we were sleeping in the same room for the first time, even if it was the infirmary."

Penelope turned her head and smiled at him.

"Not that I slept all that well," he continued, "since I kept looking over at you."

"Wow, I really want to leap up and kiss you right now," Penelope admitted, "but I don't think Wilda would sleep through that."

"Here." Dalton knelt beside the cot and kissed her tenderly before lifting the toddler and shifting her onto the cot.

PDPD

Despite the destruction of a large (and, fortunately, ugly) table and the sizable number of pages who visited the infirmary for bruise balm, the indoor exercise was wildly popular with both the pages and the palace staff. At first, several servants had been irritated by the inconvenience and extra mess; however, they quickly recognized the opportunity the event presented.

Soon, the servants were not only placing bets on which side would win or which pages would 'survive' the day, but also taking steps to ensure favorable outcomes. Some interfered in minor ways by mopping particular corridors to keep them slippery or carrying messages. Others put up trip wires along doorways or lent uniforms to pages who wanted to disguise themselves.

Penelope and Dalton considered putting a stop to all this assistance before deciding that it made the scenario more realistic and would probably teach the pages a valuable lesson about respecting commoners.

"The whole castle seems to be learning from this one," Thayet remarked to Penelope as she and the king ducked around a skirmish. "But I'm not sure you should be encouraging all this wagering."

"Speaking of which," Jon said. "How many 'kills' has Kefira made this morning?"

"Three," Dalton answered, "at last count."

The king cleared his throat and held his palm out to his wife, who sheepishly tucked a coin into it.

"Don't be ashamed," Neal, who had left the infirmary to observe, told her. "Consistent people are boring." He eyed Wyldon as he spoke, but the old knight only raised an eyebrow in response.

_ And here's a little something to anticipate in next month's update:_

"And she thought he'd never ask," Jason observed as Selena bent to collect the spoon she'd dropped. "Which may be why we're having difficulty determining whether this consitutes a yes or no answer."


	31. Decisions and Diversions

_Hello again and many thanks to all who reviewed the last chapter! This chapter (which is way longer than I originally intended—thanks for your patience!) begins a month or so after the last,_ _in early summer. Enjoy! _

Although inspired by Penelope and Dalton's departure, Selena guiltily waited until the last minute to announce her own more modest summer travel plans. She sat nervously through dinner and then sprang up immediately to occupy her hands with dish clearing while she spoke.

"I'm thinking of going to visit Pirates' Swoop for a few weeks and—"

"I know," Jeck said easily. "Can I come with you?"

Selena's grip slackened and the spoon she was carrying slipped from her fingers. Just two years before, he'd refused her invitation to accompany her to the Swoop, claiming that it would be too large a disruption in his work and reminding her of the distance between his status and her own. This time she hadn't even bothered asking him to come, but he'd…

"And she thought he'd never ask," Jason observed as Selena bent to collect the spoon she'd dropped. "Which may be why we're having difficulty determining whether this constitutes a yes or no answer."

"Well?" Jeck took the spoon from her and mimed smacking Jason with it before passing it back to him.

"I have two horses." Selena smiled. "You're alright with leaving for a few weeks?"

Jeck shrugged. "It's time I had a break."

"Really?" Selena asked, because he seemed to mean more than a brief vacation. "You can leave tomorrow?"

"Really," Jeck assured her, grinning. "Let's go pack."

"Packing," Jason said. "Is that what they call it these days?"

"If you mean throwing mostly clean clothes into saddle packs, then yes," Selena told him.

"And if you're wondering why you haven't brought home any seamstresses lately," Jeck added, "then not usually and good luck."

PDPD

A servant greeted Selena and Jeck upon their arrival and explained that George and Alanna were just wrapping up a highly confidential meeting with certain mysterious visitors. So they cared for Selena's horses, deposited their bags in a guest room, and let themselves out for a walk along the grounds. They climbed a hill for the view and practically stumbled over Vina and Karyna, who were sleeping stretched out on a pair of horse blankets.

Vina blinked one eye at them. "Good afternoon."

"What are you doing here?"

Vina peeled both eyes open. "Waiting for Rissa."

"But what about the trainees?" Jeck wondered.

Vina lifted her fingers slightly in a lazy version of a shrug. "It's been two months of training. Today's their first day off."

"More importantly," Karyna said, lifting her head long enough to smile briefly at them, "it's our day off." Then the knight and the rider closed their eyes and drifted back into the blissful and righteous sleep of the recently overworked.

"The trainees are probably down by the beach," Selena said.

"Perhaps we should go check." Jeck smiled. "We wouldn't want them wandering off and getting into trouble."

PDPD

An hour later, Vina shot bolt upright, suddenly and inexplicably aware of her twin's presence.

Rissa, who was still twenty yards away, did not shout as she might once have done. She simply grinned and burst into a silent sprint. Vina did the same so that their hug looked more like a collision.

"Well," Rissa muttered once she'd gotten a good look at her twin. "I'd say we're prettier than ever."

"Agreed." Vina grinned. "And smarter too."

"Not to mention stronger," Rissa added, relieved to find that she Vina could still fall into their familiar speech rhythm.

"So," Vina said. "Where's Byrn?"

"Home—Briarwood." Rissa paused. "I'm thinking of going back there this fall. He didn't want me to leave this spring, but I needed—I wasn't—I'm not ready to…" Rissa sighed. "And here you are." She glanced at Karyna, who was yawning and stretching as she made her way slowly towards them. "Sometimes I think you're so much braver than I am."

Vina shook her head. "It's much simpler for me actually."

Rissa snorted in disbelief.

"In some ways," Vina clarified. "We can't get married—for some people we don't even exist—so we don't have to worry about whether or when we're going to wed. You still have to worry about what everyone will think and wonder if you'll make a suitable Baroness of Briarwood." She shrugged. "We can just be here without having to make big decisions about where we're going."

"But you came here with her. That was a decision." Rissa smiled, trying not to think about the phrase Baroness of Briarwood. "So, what about the future?"

Vina shrugged again, somewhat sadly. "What about it?"

"We'll be here for that too with any luck." Karyna kissed Vina's cheek on her way to hug Rissa. "Waiting to see what happens with you and Byrn. But we're happy with here and now."

"Speaking of which," Rissa said, smiling gratefully at both of them as she seized on her change of subject, "I saw George coming out of his study and he's very pointedly invited us all to supper." She glanced at Vina. "Apparently you've been neglecting your guestly duties."

"I've been—"she glanced at Karyna—"we didn't want to impose."

"They want you to," Rissa informed her. "All of you," she added, waving to Selena and Jeck, who'd just returned from discovering that the beach was indeed crowded with Rider trainees. "Apparently George has noticed a certain lack of common sense at his table and I'm under strict orders to 'make sure Vina brings her 'not-exactly-handsome-Rider' and Selena brings her cynical smith'."

Karyna frowned and turned to Jeck. "I don't suppose you'd be willing to trade epithets."

"Sorry," he muttered. "I think I'd better not."

"Right. Thought not. But I had to ask."

Selena, meanwhile, scowled in indignation. "Common sense? How can he imply that we lack—"

"Because you don't have any," Jeck said calmly.

"But—" Vina began.

"Common sense," Karyna informed her, "would be listening to that little voice in your head that tells you not to try and fight with an injured arm."

"Or," Jeck added, "to take it easy and avoid long rides while you're recovering from a concussion."

"Or to tell your knight master that you're about to pass out from fever instead of just blithely continuing your duel."

"Or using some more self-preserving criteria than 'but-Wyldon-asked-me-to' when agreeing to do something dangerous."

"Oh." Selena looked a little crestfallen. "I suppose we don't."

"It's not a serious character flaw," Karyna assured her.

"More of a beloved quirk." Jeck kissed Selena's temple.

"I don't worry about it," Rissa asserted. "Penelope and Dalton get along just fine without it."

Even Vina had to snort at this.

"Do you think she realizes that Byrn doesn't have any either?" Karyna asked in a stage whisper.

Jeck shrugged. "It probably takes one to er, not know one."

PDPD

"Does this feel strange to you?" Jeck asked Karyna. They were standing in the hallway, waiting for the others to join them for the walk to supper.

"I'm in a skirt," she informed him.

"So I see."

"This happens maybe six times a year. So, yes, absolutely, very strange."

"I mean—"

"I know." She nodded and started pacing back. "The whole specially invited to supper bit."

"Right, I mean, George and I get along well enough when we're talking about weapons. But the Champion has a reputation and Penelope and Dalton are the only nobles I dine with." Jeck frowned. "And Wyldon, I suppose, but that was so terrifying that I don't remember much of it."

"At least you know them," Karyna put in. She'd only shaken their hands briefly at Vina's ordeal and upon arriving the Swoop. "And you and the Baron actually have a bit in common—the interest in weaponry, I mean, and the fact that you're both commoners who've fallen in love lady knights and then had to work your way into their worlds—"

"So," Jeck observed, "you're just like him too then."

"But—"Karyna began.

"Aside from the fact," George said, emerging smoothly from a hidden passageway and startling both of his guests, "that she can't catch pickpockets." He held a few coins out to Karyna. "I dared Jess into taking those earlier, but we thought you should have them back."

"Is there a reason you started this right after I wrote Penelope to say Jess was behaving well?"

George nodded. "We were waiting for an optimal moment." He shrugged. " And for her brother's release from prison into service here, which, by the by, is the reason"—he turned and called down the passage from which he'd just emerged—"hurry up lad."

Byrn emerged clumsily and nearly went sprawling, but quickly picked himself up and sketched an ironic bow.

"I've just been escorting the prisoner here—"he shook Jeck's hand and clasped Karyna's arm—" and then I thought I'd surprise—"

"Byrn!"

He lifted his head at the shout and found that the twins were standing at the top of the stairs, dressed absolutely identically from their braids to their slippers. Alanna and Selena were standing behind them, but even they seemed uncertain just which twin had spoken.

PDPD

Byrn raised an eyebrow at Karyna, who raised an eyebrow in return. The twins smirked mischievously at one another as they started down the stairs.

"This," George pronounced as they approached, "is going to be interesting."

Jeck swallowed sympathetically as he took Selena's arm.

"Isn't it?" said the twin who approached Byrn.

"Quite," agreed the twin coming towards Karyna.

"For all of us," Byrn agreed. He set his hand on the nearest twin's shoulder and then kissed her cheek. "Hello Vina," he said, "you're looking well."

Rissa shrugged out of Karyna's sisterly hug. "Well," she said, "it was worth a try." Then she shot into Byrn's arms.

Once he'd kissed her she added, "and it seemed like fair payback for not telling me you were here."

PDPD

"How did you know?" Rissa asked, waving goodnight to Vina and Karyna and lacing her arm through Byrn's for the walk back to her room.

"I didn't know you were coming here until George told me," he answered, cheerfully and deliberately obtuse.

"No." She butted her nose against his shoulder. "Know me, I mean, earlier."

"I've no idea." Byrn smoothed a hand over her hair. "It was like when you're a little bit disoriented in town and, instead of trying to follow the street names and getting yourself really lost, you just go where your instincts take you until you find yourself where you meant to end up." He brushed his nose against her cheek.

Rissa nodded. He'd just described the process she was using to locate her room. "I just knew Vina wasn't the road I wanted to turn at and you were. I think it might have something to do with your eyes."

"It's just that not many people can tell us apart automatically." She smiled. "Not even our parents. Wyldon and Mindelan weren't bad at it—I think training masters have extra senses or something. Alanna's pretty good—she was a twin and she has twins of her own so she understands…And Penelope and Dalton, almost always recognized us, of course. That's about it."

"And even they could be confused if you wanted them to be," Byrn pointed out.

"We didn't try all that often," Rissa protested.

"I know." Byrn grinned. "It's hard to hide who you are from people who love you."

"I wonder if they miss us," Rissa murmured, pushing open the door she thought was hers.

"Who wouldn't?" Byrn kissed her temple. "I think this one's mine, by the way," he added, nudging her inside as surveyed the room. "Not that it matters."

PDPD

"Rissa," Penelope said, "why don't you pop over to the  
Blue Hare and—"

"Um," said Dalton, realizing he couldn't just send Vina out to inquire at the village's other inn, the Red Rabbit.

"Right," Penelope muttered sheepishly. She'd never quite appreciated how useful the twins were for comparing prices, cleanliness, and kitchen smells at different inns.

Dalton glanced down at Bandit. "I don't suppose you'd be willing to suddenly reveal an as-yet-undiscovered ability to produce human speech this afternoon."

Bandit growled playfully back at him.

Penelope dismounted with lazy reluctance. "We can just tie our horses here and split up for a little reconnaissance and—"

"Lady knight Penelope?" a voice called uncertainly.

Penelope turned to find a young man in a clerk's uniform standing behind her.

"Oh good," he said. "I've a message for you from the Rider captain at Pirates' Swoop."

"Thanks." Penelope smiled as she unsealed the message and read the few not-quite-tidy lines Karyna had sent.

_Jess is doing well. Actually, she does a little too well in espionage skills and we've noticed we never seem to be able to run surprise drills anymore… But she's made a few law-abiding (for Riders) friends and she takes good care of her gear and ponies. I think she's going to be a great Rider in a few years and I know she appreciates what you've done to get her here. _

Penelope folded the note and passed a coin to the clerk.

"Which of the two inns would you recommend?" Dalton asked without bothering to dismount.

"Well, the Red Rabbit has better ale and women—" he glanced at Penelope, who pointedly reached up to wrap a hand over Dalton's knee—"but the Blue Hare makes better pies and brings hotter bath water."

"Thanks," Dalton said. "That settles it—"

He was interrupted by a loud scream from the Red Rabbit. And then by several shouts of "bandits" and the sound of crashing furniture.

"The Red Rabbit it is," Penelope muttered, mounting again. "And I was so looking forward to a bath."

"Well, now we get to go galloping in and shout 'stop, in the name of the king'."

PDPD

Ultimately, however, they decided on a quieter, stealthier approach and Dalton lifted Penelope up to the tavern's window to assess the situation.

"They've got hostages," Penelope whispered, scanning the room.

Seven bandits had taken over the tavern of the Red Rabbit. One held the innkeeper at sword point. Another kept his knife against a young woman's throat. Three were herding the customers towards the center of the room and collecting valuables from them. The largest two were armed with battle-axes and guarding the two entrances.

Penelope cursed quietly and nodded for Dalton to lift her down. They both checked their weapons as she explained what she'd seen.

"Back or front?" Dalton asked when she'd finished.

"Back," Penelope answered easily, loving the way they barely had to speak their plans when they weren't responsible for justifying their strategy to doubtful men under their command or worrying about what anyone else might do. She did miss the twins, but she didn't feel outnumbered—she felt in sync with Dalton and almost dangerously confident in their ability to do anything together.

Dalton nodded and jerked his head towards the front entrance to indicate that he would get into position while she ran around the back. "I'll wait for your signal and then count ten." He took for granted her ability to subdue the guard, but understood how essential it was for her to surprise a much-larger opponent.

Penelope brushed her lips past his chin and ducked around the building. She paused outside the door to catch her breath and draw her sword and then knocked sharply and began her own silent count of ten.

The guard cracked the door to see who was outside it. He grunted and slashed at her with his ax. Penelope immediately gave up her hope of using a non-lethal technique and rammed her sword into his throat as she forced her way inside. She kicked his discarded ax out of her way and was pleased to see one of the inn's guests dive for it and strike back at the bandit who was trying to drive him away from the door.

The commotion, meanwhile, had gotten the other guard to turn his back on the door just as Dalton forced it open and brought his sword hilt down on the man's head, dropping him instantly.

The leaders, who'd clearly left their dumbest members the task of watching the doors, did exactly what Dalton and Penelope had feared they'd do.

"Freeze or she dies!" The bandit holding the young woman pressed his knife closer to her throat.

"Drop your weapons!" the other leader prodded the innkeeper further into a corner.

Dalton obeyed immediately, letting his blade fall to the floor with a loud clatter. Then he caught Penelope's eye and glanced discretely at his left elbow to indicate his hidden knife.

She widened her nostrils slightly to show she understood and silently wished him luck with what would be a challenging left-handed throw even without an innocent woman obstructing his target.

Dalton swallowed and forced himself to remember George's advice. _Don't doubt._

"Wait!" Penelope called, stretching out her arms and holding her sword as though she planned to drop it momentarily. "Let's talk reasonably. We can work out an arrangement and no one else has to get hurt."

"Arrangement, eh," said the bandit who still had his knife against the woman's throat, "you drop that sword and come upstairs with me and we'll arrange—"

"A cheap funeral," Dalton muttered as his blade buried itself in the man's neck.

The woman hadn't even screamed as the blade passed inches from her scalp; she immediately spun about to yank the knife out and appropriate it for her own use.

Not that Penelope had time to admire this show of pluck. She was too busy racing to disarm the innkeeper's captor before he killed the innkeeper. The bandit leader was a good swordsman, far better than Penelope had expected, but he hadn't been trained by Wyldon. She soon managed to slash at his exposed forearm and force him to drop the weapon. She got a sword point to the bandit's neck and talked the terrified innkeeper into tying the man up with strips of his apron.

By the time she turned around, most of the guests and servants had escaped from the inn and the few who hadn't were helping tie up bandits or complaining shakily about the cleanup that would be required.

PDPD

"Evening handsome." The woman who'd been taken hostage grinned flirtatiously at Dalton. "Thanks are in order, I believe."

Dalton scanned desperately for Penelope. "Er, not necessar—"

"Don't worry." The woman winked at Penelope, who was hurriedly picking her way over broken furniture to reach them. "I'm not inviting him upstairs, just expressing a little appreciation. She wiped off the knife she'd borrowed and offered it back to him.

"Keep the knife," Dalton said, reaching an arm around Penelope's shoulders. "Where'd you learn to use it?"

"Corus, mostly, but also country villages." She shrugged, tossing the knife up in the air and catching it expertly. "I like to think of myself as the real reason they call women who can fight whores."

Penelope grinned. "I'll try to appreciate the accidental complement more next time."

PDPD

The innkeeper offered Penelope and Dalton free accommodations for the night, but they refused. He was mostly doing it to drum up his own business and locals would be sticking their heads in all evening, trying to 'thank' the knights by staring at them.

"The Blue Hare would probably be just as bad," Dalton muttered as they extracted Bandit from his attempts to seduce the kitchen maid into spending the rest of her life scratching his belly.

Penelope shrugged and scratched Bandit behind the ears. "Guess we'll be camping then."

"Guess so. Sorry."

Penelope grinned exhaustedly. "Seriously, Dalton, just lie down under a tree and I'll flop down beside you and Bandit can spin around in three circles before he sits and it'll be just like home."

"Sounds perfect."

"It will be," Penelope assured him. "We're stopping in that bakery and buying ginger biscuits before we leave town."

PDPD

On the third day of their visit, Selena and Jeck walked out with Alanna, Rissa, George, and Byrn to see how the Riders' training was progressing.

Their weapons' work had come to a standstill on that particular morning, thanks to a boastful, bullying young recruit who thought his height and broad shoulders endowed him with strength and intelligence and the right to be exempt from 'useless beginner stuff'.

He complained loudly when Vina handed him a wooden sword and attempted to demonstrate his dueling skills by smacking a fellow recruit with it. Or he would have if Karyna hadn't pushed the recruit out of the way and Jeck hadn't grabbed another wooden sword from the pile and stepped in to engage the boy.

Jeck hit the boy's knuckles, forcing him to drop his practice sword, which Jeck caught. Within seconds, the smith had the boy pinned to the ground beneath one of his knees.

"Let me up," the boy demanded.

"At our size," Jeck said pleasantly, "any idiot can bash any other idiot's brains out. It isn't impressive; it's just an ugly fact. And it doesn't mean much." Jeck backed off enough to allow the somewhat cowed trainee to sit up. "It isn't idiots you'll be up against. And it takes training and skill to bring down a well-trained opponent. It helps to have a good weapon, but they take skill and training to make so you won't get one until you've proven you can use it. I don't work for idiots."

"I'm not—" the boy began.

"Yes, you are," Jeck said cheerfully. "And also arrogant. I suggest you listen to your instructors and appreciate their patience. I wouldn't take you as an apprentice myself, but luckily I get to be more particular—otherwise I wouldn't even bother looking for one." He jumped to his feet and threw the two wooden swords to Vina, who caught them easily. "Ladies," he said, "I'll leave you to it with my apologies for the disturbance."

"Actually," Karina called, "we'd like to thank you for it."

Jeck grinned calmly walked off to rejoin the others.

"I'm impressed," Rissa said.

"Did we know you could do that?" Byrn asked.

Selena studied Jeck's face and found it thoughtful and satisfied, as though he'd just finished a difficult bit of metalwork. Clearly he hadn't surprised himself. Or her, she realized, thinking of the casual ease with which he handled every blade he held and the way he usually defeated Jason in their exuberant mock battles.

Jeck shrugged, but allowed Selena to twine one of his arms around her waist. "I have a little basic competence."

"That was beyond basic," Alanna pointed out.

Selena smiled. It was exactly what she would have said, but she knew it meant more coming from someone else.

Jeck shrugged again. "I know just enough about using swords to be able to make them. And, no offense intended to anyone present, that's just as much as I care to know." He smiled. "I'm more interested in metals and angles and temperatures than strikes and sweeps. I make my work look simple because I'm good at it, but it's quite enough to occupy me. Not to mention more fun. So I stick to my own specialty and leave the fighting to you folks."

"Spoken like a true craftsman," George said admiringly. "And someone who wisely prefers to avoid fighting with his wi—Selena."

Jeck shrugged nonchalantly, but Selena thought she had felt his hand tighten around her hip when George had almost—and he was usually so careful with his words that Selena didn't think it entirely an accident—called her Jeck's wife. "No one likes to lose," he admitted easily. "And I have more important things to win," he added in a whisper, lacing his fingers through hers.

PDPD

"Must you leave tomorrow?" Rissa asked as she and Byrn ambled lazily around the battlements—the most logical place left for a romantic stroll once Jeck and Selena had claimed the gardens and Vina and Karyna had headed for the beech.

"Yes, I've already stayed too long. I was supposed to deliver Jess's brother and turn around." He sighed. "Will I see you this fall?"

"I hope so." She kissed his cheek and they stopped to look out towards the sea. She hesitated a moment until he turned to look at her. "How are your parents?"

"My father's not well and he's worrying about heirs and future and all that, which means that by midwinter or so we may need to…"

"By we," Rissa asked, "you mean us? Not you and your mother?"

"I do mean us, though I should admit she does rather enjoy anticipating celebrations and sewing baby blankets."

Rissa blushed and looked away, studying a loose pebble in an attempt to ignore what Byrn was hinting gently at—that Briarwood would probably need an heir immediately and she would be expected to produce him. She loved Byrn, but now that the possibility loomed, she wasn't sure she could be the Baroness of Briarwood. Not and also be the knight she'd put so many years into becoming.

Byrn squeezed her elbow in silent apology. "It isn't easy, I know, but I need…Can I have your company at least?"

"I'll be there in the fall," she said, "but—"

"That's all I'm asking now," he said quickly, "the rest can come later." He gently brushed a few bewilder tears from her cheek and then kissed it. "Let's just enjoy this last evening. We don't have to worry about anything else right away."

"Agreed." Rissa nodded gratefully and took his hand to continue walking.

PDPD

Byrn left early the next morning, but Rissa walked with him to the stables and helped saddle his horse. They didn't speak much until they'd finished.

"Byrn," she murmured finally. "I want—I don't know—"

"I don't either." He pulled her close for a final hug. "We don't have to yet. Just think it over and we can consider betrothals and babies and the barony in the fall."

"Is 'think it over' the best euphemism you can find for worry?" she teased. Then she kissed him and tried not to tear up while he rode away.

She was startled to find Alanna standing behind her when she turned around.

"Forgive an old eavesdropper for asking if you're alright."

Rissa sniffled quietly. "I don't know. I've no idea what I want to do. I thought I wanted—but now that it…Anyway—" She squared her shoulders and tried to smile. "I don't have to decide anything yet."

"But you will have to decide everything eventually."

"I know." Rissa nodded miserably and let the older knight wrap an arm around her shoulders and lead her along one of the garden paths. "I love him so much. And I've worked so hard. And I know Penelope has both—but Byrn isn't a younger son. He has to become the Baron of Briarwood and have sons. And I'm not ready to feel stuck in Briarwood growing bitter. But I can't stop wanting to be there with him, especially since we've both been assuming—acting like I'll…Only now I'm not sure I can." She sighed. "I don't even know how to go about deciding."

"And you probably won't until you're done deciding." Alanna shook her head, smiling slightly. "I don't suppose you're also in love with a handsome thief—that might simplify things for you."

"Um, no." Rissa blinked at her. "Should I be?"

"Well, it worked for me after Jon asked me to marry him." Alanna shrugged.

"Wait—what? The king? I mean I knew you'd been—but wouldn't that have made you—"

"Queen," Alanna finished calmly. "Not Champion. I'd be an entirely different woman by now, not the person I am or the one I wanted to be."

"Oh," Rissa said. "But you said no?"

Alanna nodded. "Quite vehemently." She sighed. "I was angry with him for assuming my acceptance. And I think I knew—even then—that I could not be his queen and also myself."

Rissa swallowed. That was exactly what terrified her when she thought of marrying Byrn and living in Briarwood.

"Even though you loved him?"

"Very much. I still do—not the same way, of course, but there is no undoing what we experienced together. We've always been close—that was why I was so angry with him for not recognizing all that I was."

Rissa bit her lip, wondering if she'd have an easier time saying no to Byrn if he hadn't identified her the other night, if he didn't offer her so many apologetic warnings about his family situation.

"Do you ever regret it?"

Alanna paused. "I wish we had been gentler with one another—Jon and I hurt each other deeply when we parted ways. I hope you and Byrn will share your thoughts honestly and carefully with another whatever decision you come to—remember that you may wind up fighting alongside one another even if you don't marry. But no, my life has been a good one. I don't regret rejecting Jon. What I have with George is worth even more…" She smiled thoughtfully. "But I don't even regret rejecting George's first proposal—it gave me time to grow up and realize why I loved him."

"That's what I need," Rissa muttered. "But then George didn't have noble parents anxious to marry him off."

"No he didn't. That was Jon."

"I just want us to go on as we are—gradually—and not rush into a wedding."

"I know," Alanna said and Rissa felt that she really understood. "I wish I could offer you answers. But this decision is yours alone to make and it has to be that way. I can only tell you to listen to your heart and your head, especially when they seem to be in agreement."

"What if my head is on the fence and my heart feels like it's ripping itself in two?"

Alanna shook her head and pulled Rissa into a hug, but knew better than to attempt comforting words.

_So, no folks it's not quite over yet. I'm currently operating under the assumption (probably delusional as I've said this several times before) that I'm moving towards the end of this story. I hope to add two to four longish chapters (and, of course, a fluffy epilogue) and complete it by the end of October. Meanwhile I'd like to apologize for the unexpected angst, appeal to your inner reviewer, and offer this preview: _

"Did you miss us?" Penelope asked.

"Do you want me to answer honestly?" Neal returned.

"Only if it will be more entertaining than 'of course, all the time'."

"Alright then. Every other rainy afternoon."


	32. Arrivals

_Hello again! Many thanks to all who reviewed the last chapter. This one takes place at the end of the summer (so two months or so after the last installment, which depicted Jeck's visit to Pirates' Swoop, Rissa's uncertainty about her future with Byrn, and Penelope and Dalton's encounter with an inn full of bandits. The location and certain themes and characters belong to Tamora Pierce. And, without further ado:_

"Here, Shadow," Selena muttered, pushing open the door.

The hound barked playfully and then jumped to greet the girl standing outside it. She laughed and scratched Shadow's ears before blinking confusedly at Selena, who blinked back at the stranger. She was eighteen or so, tall, blonde, and tanned from a summer of outdoor work. She wore badly scuffed boots, a long braid, and a too-big shirt with the sleeves rolled up to reveal forearms muscular enough for Selena to envy.

"Um," she said, "excuse me. Are you—someone told me the smiths were looking for an apprentice."

"They are."

"But—" the girl bit her lip.

"I'm not it."

"She just lives here," Jason put in as he arrived at the door to survey the girl. "Who are you then?"

"I—Please, I've come a long way and I'd just like a fair chance. That's all. I started making horseshoes in my Da's shop just after I could walk and I was starting to learn weapons when my Da died and we lost the forge and I miss—I know I don't look it, but I'm good with metal and I walked ten days to get here and—" She bit her lip again as though to hold in a sob.

"All well and good," Jeck said gently. "But we just want your name for now?"

"Oh," she said, "I'm Sara."

"Alright," Jeck said, glancing at Jason, who nodded to indicate his approval. "I'm Jeck. And this is—"

"Jason."

"And Selena."

"Please come in," Jason added and Sara did so.

"You'll work for the day," Jeck told her. "And we'll decide this evening whether or not to take you on. If we do, you get room and board and four coppers a week. Even if we don't, we'll pay you reasonable wages for the work you do today. Does that sound like a fair chance to you?"

Sara's face brightened with something like confidence. "Yes, sir."

"I'm not a sir," Jeck said. "But, she is," he added, squeezing Selena's shoulder, "sort of."

"Though the proper term is lady knight," Jason put in.

"And I prefer to leave if off at home, thanks," Selena said.

Sara's eyes widened.

"Confused?" Jason asked kindly.

"A little."

"That's alright." Jason assured her. "It feeds the artistic imagination."

"I thought that was already infinite," she muttered. Then she tucked a stray bit of hair behind one ear. "Where would you like me to start?"

Jeck frowned thoughtfully.

"Wait." Jason set a hand on her shoulder. "Have you had breakfast?"

Sara shook her head and dropped her eyes. "I ran out of coin yesterday morning."

"Good," Jason said, "I mean I'm sorry to hear it, but we haven't eaten either and I've made extra oatmeal. And we have a sacrosanct rule around here, which is that no one works on an empty stomach."

"It's very strictly enforced," Selena added with mock solemnity as she fetched another bowl from the cupboard."

PDPD

"Home," Penelope murmured, grinning wildly, as soon as she spotted the palace.

Dalton grinned back and nudged his horse forwards to give himself a head start. "Race you."

Bandit trailed happily behind them and they galloped for the gates, too happy to realize what a bad example they were setting for all of Kel's pages, who were just returning from their fall camping trip. They pulled even with the group and dismounted alongside Kel's family and pages.

"Penelope," Wilda called, scrambling eagerly from her mother's horse.

Penelope turned automatically and squatted to embrace the girl.

"Can we fly, please?" Wilda fixed Penelope with a beseeching expression.

"I don't know," Penelope answered. "You seem much bigger now that you've turned four." But she managed to lift Wilda overhead and spin her about until she laughed

Penelope caught sight of Dalton doing the same with Peregrine and grinned at him. She spun Wilda until they were both dizzy and then kissed her cheek before setting her down. _I want this, _Penelope realized, the knowledge bubbling up from deep inside. It wasn't really a surprise, only a certain answer to all the soul-searching she'd done since the twins' Ordeals.

She sighed, smiling, and turned to greet Wilda's parents with the promise that she'd be on the pages' practice court the next morning.

"We'll be glad to have you." Mindelan clasped her shoulder. "Go unpack and enjoy your last free afternoon."

PDPD

"Hail the returning wiseacres," Neal called as they passed the open infirmary door.

"Did you miss us?" Penelope asked, her voice flippant even as she rushed towards her old mentor.

"Do you want me to answer honestly?" Neal returned, pulling her close to kiss her cheek and ruffle her hair.

"Only if it will be more entertaining than 'of course, all the time'."

"Alright then. Every other rainy afternoon."

"And I made brief and half-hearted attempts to regret your absence every morning that we didn't run out of tea."

Neal frowned. "I've seen the way you drink. That's actually rather insulting."

"We had a few slow mornings." Dalton clasped Neal's hand. "And it didn't rain often."

"Alright. I'm appeased. Come tell me about your trip."

"Only if you'll offer us tea," Penelope said.

Neal grinned. "I'd never admit to being out of it."

PDPD

Penelope and Dalton were puzzled to find a girl with a worried expression sitting outside with Shadow when they visited the smithy shortly before supper. They were even more surprised to find Selena, Jeck, and Jason sitting at a completely empty table.

"She's good," Jeck was saying, " a little undertrained, but—"

"she knows what she's doing," Jason agreed, "and she wants to do it well. She might be a little small—"

"Do you actually know any other women smiths to compare her to?" Selena asked, smiling at Penelope and Dalton.

"No," Jeck said. "But I doubt she'd be the first."

"And I doubt you'll find a better apprentice," Jason said.

Jeck nodded and then glanced at Selena. "Is this going to make you jealous?"

Selena raised an eyebrow.

"If I take on a girl apprentice?" Jeck prodded.

"Not unless you plan on sleeping with her."

Jeck snorted softly and shook his head.

"Good. Keep her then. You've got more than enough hard work to go around."

"Sara," Jason called. "You can stay. And you should come meet two of our favorite customers."

"So," Jeck said once they been introduced, "what can we do for you?"

"I need a few new knives," Dalton said.

"Did your old ones break?"

"No," Penelope said. "He gave them to a prostitute in exchange for services rendered," she added, completely straight-faced.

"In a purely nonprofessional capacity," Dalton added hastily as Jeck prodded him to check that he was still alive.

"Did you mean for that to come out sounding even worse?" Selena asked mildly. "Because if you keep this sort of behavior up, Dalton, I'll have to put an official end to our affair and marry Jeck."

Jeck didn't bat an eye at this, which made Penelope wink at Selena.

"At the risk of ruining our good name forever, I would like to assert that she—" Dalton pointed at Penelope—"witnessed the entire transaction."

"Oh," said Selena, "my."

"And it all was perfectly innocent," Penelope insisted, "as long as you're willing to overlook the blood and broken furniture and dead criminals."

Sara turned to Jason. "Do we want to know?" she whispered loudly.

"Possibly not," he whispered back. "But they'll probably tell us anyway." He turned to Penelope and Dalton. "Especially since they're invited for dinner."

PDPD

They stayed late, talking and laughing, in the smiths' kitchen and then took the long way back to their rooms so they could savor the peaceful night air of the palace gardens. They walked with their shoulders brushing and Bandit trotting happily ahead of them.

"Glad to be back?" Dalton asked, breaking their long silence as he swung open their door.

Penelope merely smiled because it hadn't quite been a question.

He kissed her cheek and stepped over to the washbasin, leaving her to rummage at the bottom of the clothes chest for the last of their clean things. She silently resolved to see to their laundry the next day and then felt her breath catch with the resolution she'd spent the summer reaching.

"Dalton," she murmured and then froze at the immensity of what she meant to do.

"Hmmm." He turned, smiling gently at her.

His gaze tugged her loose again and she remembered how to lift her arms to her neck. Then, between her shaking fingers and the unfamiliar—it wasn't as though she'd ever undone it before—fastening, it took her almost a minute to remove the charm that had hung there for years.

Dalton very wisely made no attempt to help her; he knew better than to interfere and he felt, not at all shocked, but a little too awed to move. Instead, he simply watched, wide-eyed, as she weighed the chain in her palm and then dropped the charm to the bottom of the clothes chest.

"I think that we should stay near the palace for a while." The words came easily and her voice held almost steady.

Dalton nodded, swallowing hard, and pulled her towards him. "As long as you need." He brushed his lips against hers. "We've nowhere else to go."

PDPD

"So," Dalton said as they dressed for a little early morning dueling practice, "what made you decide?"

Penelope frowned thoughtfully as she tied her bootlaces. "It wasn't any one thing in particular. I just don't feel like an orphan anymore." She switched feet. "And this summer…I realized we've made the world a safer place—safe enough maybe to bring someone else into." She smiled at him. "Ready?"

He pulled on his tunic and smiled back. "Almost." He took her hand, kissed her cheek, and pulled her into his arms. "I'm so glad," he whispered, "and so grateful and…I promise we're going to make this work."

"I know," she said, pressing her face to his neck. "Let's go."

But it was another minute before either of them made any move to leave.

PDPD

Rissa halted her horse once the gates of Briarwood came into view and pulled Byrn's letter out to scan it once again.

_Rissa, love, my father is dying and he wants very badly to see me married, even to a woman not of his choosing. I'm forced to ask in writing what you deserve to hear in person. I'll put it plainly: will you please hurry to Briarwood as my betrothed and marry me within the week? My mother will be making arrangements as you read this and…_

She swallowed painfully and stuffed the letter away, wondering if it would have been better to break her earlier promise to visit. Perhaps she shouldn't have come at all. She was afraid she might say yes now that she was here.

"Rissa," Byrn called and she smiled

"I'm so glad you're here," he said, seizing her shoulders and burying his face against her neck. "I've missed you so much and it's been…But tomorrow, after the betrothal ceremony, we can—"

"Byrn." She had to force his name out as though she were kicking him off a life raft. "Wait."

He pushed her away and stepped back, swallowing hard.

"We need to talk about--" She broke off and looked away, too guilty to meet his eyes.

He sighed. "Then there isn't really anything left to discuss."

"I'm sorry," she whispered, though she wanted to say far more. "I love you."

"I know," he murmured. "Me too."

"It's just that I can't—the woman you love isn't someone who can just drop everything and become Lady Briarwood."

He nodded, his eyes fierce and sad. "I hate this whole situation—I hate what it's doing to us." He clenched his fists to keep his face from crumpling. "You should—could you please just go—be free, but get away from here."

She hesitated a moment. "Do you want me to kiss you goodbye?"

"Yeah," he said hoarsely. "But it's a bad idea." He turned back towards his horse, his shoulders hunched so miserably that Rissa wanted to be sick.

She nodded bitterly, intending to spin around, and then found that she and Byrn were clinging to one another, both of them shivering. He brushed his nose against her cheek and she dropped her forehead to his shoulder to whisper goodbye.

"Farewell," he agreed. Then he gently pushed her away and offered her a leg up.

"Byrn," she murmured. "I'm sorry about your father. If you need me to, I can come in and—I could stay for a few days if it'll help."

"It wouldn't," he spat. "You can't have it both ways. You have to care enough to commit to one thing or another. I shouldn't have given you time to think, Rissa, all you do is delay the inevitable and the unpleasant." He swung a fist at her, a clumsy blow, all angry reflex and she ducked it easily. "Just go," he shouted. "Let me focus on what I must do. I don't need any distractions right now." This verbal blow was a direct hit—just what it would hurt her most to hear—and they both knew it. At least it got her on her horse and riding away before either of them could say anything worse.

It took all her strength of will to leave without looking back. It wasn't until she'd tumbled down at the nearest inn and started grooming her horse that she discovered her hands were shaking; she told herself it was from anger at what he'd said, but knew that was only half true.

PDPD

Penelope picked up the pages' training routine easily, quickly loosing track of time as she busied herself helping Kel and Wyldon, who had finally agreed to slow down a little and take the occasional afternoon off. Penelope spent her own free time picnicking with Dalton in the forest, gossiping with Vina or Selena (often in the smithy, where she could watch Sara gradually earning Jeck's admiration and, incredibly, the right to assist in Jason's kitchen), playing with Mindelan's children, and pestering Neal in the infirmary. But mostly she enjoyed being on the familiar practice courts.

The palace was her own personal paradise now that she'd come home to it. She truly didn't think she'd want to leave for a while.

And then the king received reports of a band of centaurs attacking a not-too-distant village.

PDPD

Dalton, by virtue of the fact that he happened to be drilling with Dom on the practice courts on the afternoon the news arrived, was assigned to lead a contingent of Riders and knights. He nodded at his orders, thanked Dom for offering to send a few men of the Own, and trotted back to his room. There, he found Penelope sitting cross-legged in bed, scratching Bandit's ears and gazing out the window.

She recognized his expression and stood immediately to begin readying gear as he explained their mission.

"We'll be running under my command because they happened to run into me first," Dalton added. "I hope you don't mind."

"Not at all," Penelope said distractedly. Then she turned and smiled at him. "It's cutely archaic of them to act like it really matters who's in command once we're actually out there."

"Isn't it?" He shrugged. "Anyway, we'll take Selena and Vina—"

"In which case we might as well take Karyna's group," Penelope put in.

"Exactly. And then Dom's choosing a few of the Own to go with us, so we'll have the force we need."

"Good," she said, starting to roll clothes for stuffing into a saddle pack. "I'll pack our personal gear and you can get our people."

_So, I hope the fluff balanced out the angst enough to keep you from attacking Byrn and Rissa. I'm already hard at work on the next chapter, which will cover the battle and it's aftermath: _

"I'm getting a healer," Dalton called, already turning. He practically ran into Selena, who'd lit another lantern for them. "Fetch Vina," he ordered.


	33. Risk

_Hello everyone and thanks to all who review the last episode—I hope you enjoy this extra long update. It takes place a few months after the last chapter, in which Penelope and Dalton returned home and Rissa realized she couldn't marry Byrn. Imaginative credit is due to Tamora Pierce. _

Penelope slashed frantically at the nearest centaur and spun her horse away, trying to ignore the lurching in her gut and the fact that she hadn't seen Dalton in ages. The sun was setting and there were still several centaurs up and fighting.

Selena called her name and she spun again to help her tackle a vicious piebald.

"Dalton's back that way," Selena assured her once they'd dropped it between them. "I think we're getting towards the last of them."

"Good," Penelope grunted. She'd spent the past several hours remembering just how much she hated dealing with centaurs. They were big, they were fast, they were essentially mounted, and it was a lot harder to kill things that looked like horses than things that looked like spiders.

She ducked a thrown blade, glanced back to be sure that Vina was still alive and on her horse, and then started in the direction Selena had indicated.

PDPD

Dalton didn't notice how late it had gotten until the last of the centaurs had been killed. And then, as he dismounted, he realized it was too dark to tell how the battle had gone.

"Karyna," he called, remembering that he'd spotted her nearby and fairly recently. "Would you mind—"

"Here." She tossed a globe of pale blue Gift into the air, illuminating a small patch of ground.

"Any chance you can expand this?" Penelope asked.

Dalton grinned at the sound of her voice and doubled his pace when he saw her standing in the silvery Gift and lighting an ordinary lantern.

"Sorry, I'm a little…Oh, I think that's all mine."

"Sit," Penelope hissed as Karyna's Gift faded out and she slid to the ground. And by then Dalton was close enough to Penelope's lantern to see that 'that' was about a shirt and tunic full of blood still flowing freely from a large gash in Karyna's abdomen.

"Mithros," Penelope muttered, shrugging out of her own tunic and wadding it up against the wound.

"Could you save the prayers and profanity for later?" Karyna winced and forced herself to look at the wound. Then she bit her lip and shut her eyes.

"I'm getting a healer," Dalton called, already turning. He practically ran into Selena, who'd lit another lantern for them. "Fetch Vina," he ordered.

"I'm dizzy, not dying," Karyna muttered.

"We've heard that one before," Penelope informed her. And, just as Dalton stepped out of earshot, she added, "I've said that before."

PDPD

Fortunately, the village healer had started for the battlefield as soon as it became clear that the fighting was over and Dalton didn't have to run far to find him. They returned to find that Vina had taken over Penelope's place and was murmuring quietly in Karyna's ear.

"She's just blacked out," she said without looking up. "But the bleeding seems to have slowed and her pulse is still…"

The healer knelt, his hands already full of soft yellow Gift and his eyes full of kindness. "I'm doing my best disinfect and seal the wound," he said after a long moment.

Vina glanced up at Dalton. "Selena's gone to check for other casualties and start ordering everyone towards the village inn."

"I can stop the bleeding and stabilize her enough for you to get her there," the healer added. "But she's lost a great deal of blood and I don't have the expertise that your palace healers would. Even if she makes it through the night—and I can't promise that—it will be some time before she's up and walking, not to mention riding, again."

Vina bit her lip, her face closing down entirely, and Dalton swallowed hard.

"Is there you anything need?" he asked.

"We're managing," the healer said, gesturing at Vina with one elbow. "We just need a little time and quiet."

Dalton nodded at the healer and turned to walk the edge of the woods, checking for stragglers. He found Penelope vomiting behind a clump of trees and came to hold her shoulder while she finished.

"Are you alright?" He wet a handkerchief and then passed her his water flask.

Penelope nodded. "Sorry. It was just…so much blood."

"I know," Dalton said, starting to wipe her face clean, trying not to be alarmed by how pale and tired she seemed. "Don't worry. I don't think you've gone squeamish."

"Even if I did this beforehand too?"

"This afternoon?" He frowned and rubbed her back tentatively. "Do you feel—"

"Dalton." Penelope paused for a sip from his flask. "I don't think there's any protocol for this, but, as my commanding officer, you should probably be made aware of the possibility that I may be--"she glanced down at the flask—"well, I am feeling odd." She pinched her lips together. "And then I'm—"

"How late?" Dalton asked, catching on.

"Later than last time we had this conversation." They both winced at that memory. "But it's still too soon to tell, too soon—"she smiled almost teasingly as she echoed his ill-chosen words—"to worry about it."

Dalton couldn't help grinning back at her. "Are you certain you—"

"I'm not certain. I haven't been worrying about keeping careful track since we…"

"Me neither," Dalton admitted and they both snorted softly.

"I'm only fairly sure. " Penelope shivered, remembering that she'd been somewhat sure the other day and wondering if she shouldn't have come at all. It might have been a terrible, unnecessary risk—the kind she couldn't allow herself to take anymore. "Are you angry?" she whispered.

"This is good news." He shrugged out of his tunic and pulled it over her head to replace the one she'd sacrificed to Karyna's injury. "Admittedly, not ideal timing." He kissed her cheek. "But it's something we both want, so it's definitely good news. Why would I be angry?"

"Because if I really am…well, I shouldn't be out here. But I came anyway because I wanted to get out and fight one last time before—But I'm going to have to arrange with the crown to be excused from this kind of duty for a few years and then we'll need to move to a bigger room and I'll need—" she broke off and swallowed to keep from bursting into overwhelmed tears. "But I don't even know yet, really, and we won't for a little while and—"

"Easy," Dalton breathed, pulling her into his arms, checking her surreptitiously for injuries, and finding her unharmed. "Here's what we're going to do. I'm going to hold you half a minute and then we're going to finish rounding up men and horses and get everyone to that inn. And tomorrow we're heading home, where we can worry about waiting and worrying and…everything."

"Thanks," Penelope whispered, glad that he wasn't immediately dropping their duties to whisk her away to be coddled.

He grinned wryly and kissed her.

"We'll need a stretcher for Karyna," she added, getting back to the task at hand.

PDPD

The inn was already crowded with soldiers and villagers whose homes had been destroyed, so only one room remained for the four knights who arrived last with Karyna's stretcher.

"Lucky there are two beds," Penelope muttered as they lowered the unconscious Rider onto one of them.

"And a good clean floor," Selena added, already laying out a thin pallet.

"You can share the bed with Penelope," Dalton told her. "I'll take the floor."

Selena shook her head. "What matters to me is that I get a bath. Afterwards I would happily sleep in the pig sty."

"I'm not sure I follow your logic."

"Wyldon couldn't either," Selena informed him, "on one of the rare occasions on which he scolded me for being frivolous."

"Soap and hot water," Penelope intoned, "are not trivial matters. It made perfect sense to me, though I would also want a bath the next morning."

"Obviously," Selena agreed.

"I suppose I'd better go request them then," Dalton muttered as Penelope began pulling out the screen that had been left for guests to bathe behind.

PDPD

"I'll even let you wash first," Selena told Penelope. "You're looking a little ragged."

"Are you sure?" Penelope asked, wondering if she should try to offer an explanation, though she didn't want to lie and wasn't ready to reveal her possible condition.

Fortunately, Karyna ended their polite debate by waking long enough to whisper a few words and obey Vina's murmured orders to swallow several spoonfuls of broth. She also wound up dribbling a few more spoonfuls down Vina's sleeve as she fell back into a more peaceful sleep; Penelope would have offered to cede her turn to Vina if she hadn't been certain that her former squire would refuse to budge from the bedside and the healer.

Instead, she left Vina and Dalton talking quietly with the healer and ducked into her own temporary, soapy sanctuary.

PDPD

"That was a good sign," the healer said as Dalton knelt beside Vina at Karyna's bedside. "Not a guarantee, but a good sign. You all look like stubborn people. I suspect she'll live."

Vina nodded, allowing the smallest trace of a smile onto her face as Dalton clasped her shoulder.

"I should warn you that she will probably need the entire winter to recover fully and that I doubt she will ever have children."

"Certainly not if she wants to stay," Vina muttered lightly, "in the Riders."

"Meanwhile," said the healer. "Get her to drink as much broth as she can swallow. And use this tea to prevent fever. Change her bandages once daily. Don't attempt to move her for at least a week and then only by wagon. And send for me if she worsens."

Dalton nodded. "There were also a few minor injuries among the Own. Might I escort you to those men now?"

The healer nodded tiredly and collected his kit. "Of course. We are very grateful for all that you have done here."

PDPD

Dalton helped the healer find all of the injured men, most of whom were already treating themselves with brandy and hot soup, and then rushed through his bath, all the while wondering what to do next.

He wanted to get Penelope back to the palace and keep her safe while they…adjusted to the possibility of becoming parents. It felt incredibly urgent to him despite her hesitant uncertainty. Or maybe because of it. The not-knowing was harder than a direct yes or no answer…So getting his whole command back promptly was even more important than usual

At the same time, it was clear that Karyna would be staying in the village at least a week. And she couldn't stay by herself. And it wouldn't be fair to ask Vina to leave her there…

The answer that came to him would have been obvious if he hadn't been tired and hungry. He tried not to feel like a complete idiot as he dressed and descended the stairs, but the sight of Penelope's face distracted him as it hadn't since their squire years. He nearly ran into Selena as she climbed the stairs with a tray.

"It's for Vina," she explained, looking very cheerful now that she'd bathed. "I figure someone needs to remind her about food and eating. And I'll eat up there to keep her company. You and Penelope can take as long as you like."

"Thanks," Dalton said, absurdly grateful to have a few minutes alone with Penelope. "I'm glad you've been here for all this and…"

"Go on." Selena rolled her eyes nudged him towards Penelope with one elbow.

PDPD

Penelope had already finished a bowl of chicken soup and was working her way through a large hunk of bread when Dalton set down his bowl of beef stew and took a seat beside her on the bench.

"Everything alright?" He kissed her cheek.

"I think so." Penelope took another bite and leaned back against his shoulder. "I mean, there's still a possibility it's strain from traveling or…I've never done this before."

"Me neither."

Penelope snorted softly and fell silent to finish chewing through her bread. She tried to put all the self-awareness she'd cultivated on the practice courts to use listening for clues inside herself. There were none she could interpret. She felt well and strong, but tired—that was all.

"Feeling better?"

"Full and sleepy," Penelope agreed, yawning. She stretched out on the bench and settled her head on Dalton's lap.

She woke briefly as he was carrying her upstairs.

"I'm quite capable of walking," she informed him, but made no move to get down.

"I know." He kissed cheek. "And I'm quite happy to carry you through a few deservedly lazy moments."

She willed herself back to sleep. When she woke, she was curled comfortably beneath the blankets and Dalton was talking quietly with Vina.

PDPD

Dalton squeezed Vina's shoulder. "How is she?"

"Asleep again, but she just drank more tea and broth. We may actually have to visit a chamber pot tomorrow morning."

"Good," Dalton said. "Would you go write your paragraph for the field report?"

"Now?" Vina glanced at Karyna and then Dalton, biting down her protest but making no move to get up from where she knelt on the floor.

"Now," Dalton repeated, "because she'll want you again when she wakes up and I'll want your report when I leave tomorrow."

"You're letting me stay with her?" Vina said as if it had only suddenly occurred to her that she might not be able to.

"No," Dalton said. "I'm ordering you to."

"Oh." Vina smiled and adjusted the blankets. "Right, I'll go write it now," she said, standing to hug him.

"Erm. You might want a bath too. Or at least some fresh clothes that aren't covered in blood."

"Yes, sir. Will do. But you'll call me if—"

"Of course." Dalton waved her away, grinning, and sat gingerly on the foot of Karyna's bed.

PDPD

"Alone lady knight?"

Rissa was too tired to do anything but blink and nod as she recognized Berin, an old acquaintance of Gregory's.

"As am I this evening." He flashed her a charming smile. "Would I be correct in identifying you as Lady Larissa?"

She nodded again, but did not offer her up her usual 'just Rissa'. She felt like being someone else for the moment. She smiled and flirted reflexively. "Unless my sister has taken a particularly sharp blow to the head."

"I see. And would you or your sister care to join me on an after-dinner stroll through the inn's lovely gardens?" He gestured out the window.

Rissa hesitated a moment. She had not, strictly speaking, eaten dinner. She'd merely consumed a slice of apple pie and a large quantity of brandy, neither of which had done much to diminish her anger towards Byrn or herself. But here was an opportunity—and a handsome one at that—to move on with a vengeance. And he was holding out his hand, waiting for her to prove that her happiness didn't depend on Byrn.

"I don't believe we should waste such a beautiful night." Rissa stood and pulled on her cloak. Then she pushed back her hood, knowing that her hair would look enchanting in the lantern light on the way to the door.

"Neither do I," he said, taking her hand and kissing it.

And then it was easy for her to smile and pretend that she wasn't unhappy. All she had to do in order to forget was to let him lead her along the garden's paths and to reply suggestively to his polite murmurs. When they paused beneath a pear tree, he kissed her suddenly and passionately, and she kissed back. Because she could. And she kissed him again when he invited her back to his room and twined an arm around him for the walk upstairs.

It was only as he shut his door behind them and kissed her neck that she realized what she was doing and that she didn't want to. She yanked his door open and stormed back to her own room without a word, ignoring the curses he shouted after her and the fact that she'd left behind her cloak.

Inside, she locked the door with shaking fingers and kicked off her boots. She wanted a hot bath, but didn't feel like showing her face to the world or the wash maid. She quickly scrubbed off her face and climbed into bed, pulling the quilts over herself as she curled into a tight ball. She knew she was going to wake hating herself and with an unbelievable headache.

PDPD

Vina shivered uneasily into wakefulness and realized that her neck was cramped from falling asleep in a chair. The room was dark apart from the moonlight and lantern light spilling through the window. Everyone else was asleep, or at least comfortably curled up or stretched out. She glanced at Karyna and found her breathing shallow but steady.

_Something's wrong with Rissa_, she realized and reached nervously to brush a bit of hair from Karyna's face.

Karyna stirred and nosed at her hand. "Hey," she whispered.

"Hey," Vina whispered back, reaching for a mug.

"Please don't make me swallow more."

Vina bit her lip. "You need—"

"Some proper uninterrupted sleep with you beside me." She lifted her fingers and wrapped them around Vina's wrist. "I've already decided not to die in the night. It would be a huge waste of effort at this point."

Vina smiled slightly as she set the mug down. "How do you feel?"

"I'm freezing."

"Here." Vina lifted the blankets and climbed in carefully beside her. She draped a protective arm around Karyna and wondered why she felt suddenly safe and warm when she was the supposed to be the one doing the comforting. Then she saw Penelope lift her head off of Dalton's shoulder to gaze quietly at them and she had to bite her lip as she wondered if she'd just overstepped the bounds of her old mentor's acceptance.

But Penelope nodded approvingly and yawned (in a way that seemed to suggest her amusement that Vina had fallen asleep in a chair in the first place) and then rolled over and buried her nose against Dalton.

"See," Penelope murmured pointedly. "She doesn't make dark mutterings about heat parasites."

"That's because," Karyna whispered, offering Vina a brief love-you-anyway smile, "she usually is one."

Their soft chuckling was the last thing Vina remembered before she fell asleep.

PDPD

Penelope woke refreshed and full of energy. She was eager for breakfast and an early start back to the palace, where she'd at least be safe and able to find Neal when it became inescapably clear that there was something to know for certain. She dressed quickly and led the way out the door.

Then she was assaulted by the smells of bacon and eggs and toast. She had to grab the banister to keep from doubling over and heaving

"I think I'll go start saddling our horses," Penelope said quickly, trying not to breathe.

"Right," said Dalton. "Thanks."

She trotted down the stairs and out the door, wondering how her favorite smells could seem so foul, wondering how she could hate the way she felt and love what it might mean. And then she had to worry how all of this would affect her ability to carry out her duties in the coming months and years and…

PDPD

Once he'd eaten, Dalton found Penelope stowing the last of their gear.

"Alright?" he asked.

"Much better, now that there's nothing left to come up."

"Sorry," Dalton said.

She shrugged. "It isn't your fault."

"Actually…" Dalton raised a pointed eyebrow.

Penelope smirked back at him. "Let's hold off on public recriminations for little longer."

Dalton nodded. "We won't really have any until Neal's given us news." He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and kissed her temple. "Ready to go say goodbye to Vina?"

She nodded and they took the back stairs up to the room, where Vina was brewing tea.

Penelope patted Vina's shoulder. "You look like you could use a rest," she said, mostly to distract everyone from the fact that she also looked worn out.

"Not to worry. It looks like we'll be spending the week in bed."

Karyna grinned. "That would sound far more fun if I weren't immobilized by bandages and in unrelenting pain."

Vina blushed slightly under Dalton's amused gaze. "I may resort to violence if you say 'it's always the quiet ones.'"

"Actually," he said, coming to hug Vina. "I was going to add something along the lines of 'so it's true what they say about Riders.'"

"Every word and then some," Karyna agreed cheerfully.

"Good luck then."

"Either she's feeling better," Selena remarked, "or there are a few extraordinary ingredients in the tea the healer left."

"Probably both," Dalton muttered, closing the door behind them.

PDPD

They made the return journey in one very long day, arriving well after dark. Jeck was waiting to help Selena with her horse. Then he grabbed one of Selena's bags and wrapped his free arm around her shoulders for the walk back to the smithy.

"Come on," he said. "Jason got word you'd be in late tonight and he's postponed supper for you. It smelled amazing when I left."

Selena grinned and found the energy to double her pace.

They did indeed discover the amazing smells of stew and freshly baked bread when they opened the door. They also found Sara and Jason standing close together beside the pot, arguing in playful murmurs about whether or not its contents were finished. The debate ended when they both leaned forward for a final smell and Jason used their proximity to brush his lips past Sara's cheek.

They both jumped apart when the door fell shut behind Selena.

"Sara," Jeck said quickly. "Would you mind taking Shadow out for a few minutes?"

Sara blinked. She'd been around the palace long enough to know that, thanks to the Wildmage, no adult animal in the area truly needed that kind of supervisions. Most residents took their dogs out because they wanted to stretch their own legs or sent someone else in order to get them out of the way. But Sara gamely threw on her cloak and tapped her leg to summon Shadow.

"Jason," Jeck muttered as soon as his apprentice had left. "You can't just—Sara's young and she's a long ways from home."

"So is she." Jason pointed at Selena. "It doesn't seem—"

"I'm going upstairs," Selena announced, kissing Jeck's cheek and taking her bag from him. "I want to get out of all this gear." And out from between the two of them. She'd been out fighting, it was not what she needed to come home to. Still, she couldn't help overhearing them.

"Sara's our apprentice. We're supposed to teach her and keep her safe, not take advantage of the fact that she's living under our roof to pressure her into—"

"I'm not," Jason hissed and Selena believed him. Sara hadn't been surprised when he'd kissed her—he'd clearly done so before—she'd been happy and at ease as if she might have kissed back if they hadn't been interrupted. But Selena suspected that Jeck had missed this detail in his concern for his apprentice. "I probably care about her more than you do," Jason added.

"Then you should realize what a mistake this might be. You've never stuck with the same seamstress for more than a few nights or weeks. Where would Sara be when you decided you were done?"

"This is different," Jason protested. "I've already spent over a month working beside her and we—"

"I'm just trying to look out for her. She's got a lot of potential and…" He trailed off as Selena came back downstairs, biting her lip because she understood and even admired Jeck's concern but she couldn't help sympathizing with Jason.

"I know." Jason lowered his gaze and shrugged in an attempt to end the conversation.

"I'm starving," Selena announced because she didn't feel up to arguing with either of them. "Let's call Sara back in and eat supper."

That did the trick, for the time being at least.

PDPD

Penelope and Dalton collected Bandit and some bread and cheese and hurried straight to their room to eat and wash. Penelope turned to Dalton as they were dressing and realized he'd been watching her the entire time.

She splashed a little wash water at him. "There's nothing to see."

Dalton grinned and tossed a nightshirt at her. "I always like what I see."

"I meant—"

"Yet—" Dalton finished easily. Then he sighed. "What next?"

"We wait." Penelope pulled on her nightshirt and came to sit beside him on the bed.

"For how long?"

"I don't know. I don't want to be disappointed if…"

"You're scared," he realized.

"A little." She swallowed. "Very."

"Me too," he admitted, holding open his arms.

Penelope hurried into his embrace, knocking them both back against the pillows, and settled her cheek against his shoulder. "It doesn't mean I'm not glad and excited," she added after they'd been quiet for several moments, watching Bandit tussle with their dirty socks. "It's just—I'm also afraid."

"I know." He pulled the blankets up over both of them. "I think that's the inevitable flip side of hope and love."

_So that's all for this week, but there will be plenty more drama in the next installment:_

"Jeck." Selena rolled over and pressed her fingers to his lips. "Just listen."

PDPD

"I almost slept with Berin," Rissa blurted, rushing into Penelope's arms almost as soon as she'd opened the door. It was only after the first few sobs that she noticed Wyldon sitting in the corner chair.


	34. Alright

_Hello again and many thanks to all who reviewed the last chapter! This one takes place about a week after the last battle with the centaurs. It contains material from the epilogue of Love and Money as well as characters invented by Tamora Pierce. Enjoy! _

In her dream, Selena did not duck in time. She didn't parry—she couldn't seem to move at all as the ax descended.

She woke, shivering and choking back a scream. She pinched her lips together and took a few deep breaths. Then she scooted back so that her shoulders were pressed against the warmth of Jeck's chest and waited for her heart to settle from its painful hammering.

Jeck's arm wrapped around her and he pressed a kiss to her hair. "Bad dreams?"

"Sorry. I didn't mean to wake you."

"It's alright." He ran a hand down her arm to warm her before he pulled up the blanket and nestled his fingers over hers. "You always do this about a week after you come back."

"I do?"

Jeck sighed against her hair. "I never love you any less, but you're always a little… different for a while after you return from…it takes a few days, a few dreams for the usual you to come back and sometimes I feel like I don't know…"

"What if," Selena said slowly, "what if I always came back as your wife?"

Jeck drew in a deep breath. "Selena—"

"Jeck." Selena rolled over and pressed her fingers to his lips. "Just listen."

He nodded and twitched his lips beneath her fingers.

"I know you can't ask me to marry you. I even understand. We were born in different worlds and there are lines that can't be crossed." She swallowed. "But I've already broken a lot of rules."

His chest rippled slightly with his snort.

Selena caught his eyes and swallowed. "So I think I could get away with asking you. And I can't help wondering what would happen if I did."

He gently pulled her fingers from his mouth and wrapped her hands in his own. "It's never been easy for me to say no to you. And in this case it would be inexcusably cowardly."

Selena's breath caught and she lowered her cheek to his chest, as though listening to his heart. "Will you?"

"Gladly." He sat up, catching her in his arms as she was dislodged and pulling her close.

"Then you don't mind that I asked?"

"One of us had to," he said practically. "When?"

"Soon."

"Care to be more specific?"

"Well, I've been thinking about this for about a year—"

"Only a year?" he brushed his nose playfully against her neck.

"I've been dreaming longer," she admitted, kissing his jaw. "But there a few details that…" she trailed off as Jeck flinched. "What?"

"I have to remind you one more time what you'll be giving up—"

"Jeck, don't."

"for yourself," Jeck continued stubbornly, "and any of your children."

Selena shrugged. She'd already come to terms with the fact that marrying Jeck would prevent her from passing her title on to their children.

"I prefer to think about what I'm getting." She kissed him pointedly. "And what we'll tell _our _children when they can't decide what they want to be."

"Alright," Jeck said. He glanced out the window and grimaced as he realized it was time to get up. "Details." He nudged her gently out of bed and they began dressing.

"Well, it shouldn't take more than a few days to pull our friends and a priest into one room. I'm sure Penelope and Dalton would witness for us if we asked, but I'd like to have Wyldon there too and Alanna will be arriving soon for the winter season."

"Is that a wise combination?"

Selena grinned. "Don't you want our wedding to be memorable?"

"People have been talking about us for years." He shrugged and wrapped an arm around her shoulders as they started down the stairs. "I'll find a priest this morning and make arrangements with him if you'll promise to invite all the guests and keep them from injuring one another."

PDPD

"This is the eighth morning in a row, isn't it" Dalton murmured.

Penelope nodded from where she crouched miserably over the chamber pot. "So good of you to keep count."

"Perhaps, you should go see Neal," Dalton said, unable to keep from smiling with wonderful suspicion.

"You'd look more convincingly concerned for my wellbeing if you stopped grinning like an idiot," Penelope said, smiling slightly herself. "I might be horribly ill." She lifted her head gingerly—there couldn't be anything else left to bring up.

"I'm not an idiot." Dalton bent to wipe her lips with a wet cloth. "You aren't sick—you never get sick."

"May I present evidence to the contrary," she muttered, rolling her eyes at the pot. Then she sighed and scrambled to her feet, already feeling slightly better. "I'll go make sure though," she added. "I'd hate to think my overactive imagination was doing this to me." She sighed and glanced out the window. "Only I don't have time this morning, not with—"

Dalton silenced her with a quick kiss. "Go. We're volunteers. Kel will forgive you for being late—especially if you wake Neal up. Anyway, she'll understand." He passed her a tunic and boots so she could finish dressing. "I'll clean this up," he added, indicating the chamber pot.

Penelope stepped into his arms before he could reach for it and buried her face against his shoulder. He wrapped his arms around her and they lingered together for a moment before she kissed his chin quickly and hurried away.

PDPD

"Where's the body?" Jason asked.

"What?" Selena pulled her eyes away from Jeck.

"You're both grinning like you've gotten away with murder. And breakfast doesn't smell that good."

Jeck wrapped his hand over Selena's. "We're getting married."

"Oh, wow that's—congratulations on the inevitable."

"Thanks," Jeck said. "You'll come then?"

Jason rolled his eyes in mock exasperation and shoved a piece of toast into Jeck's hand. "Of course. Now run along and make your arrangements. We still have work to do around here."

Jeck punched Jason's shoulder, kissed Selena, and started for the door.

Jason kissed the top of Selena's head as he set a plate in front of her. "I'm glad for both of you."

"Thanks. By the way, Jeck's being an idiot about you and Sara."

Jason glanced nervously toward the attic room where Sara slept, but she hadn't woken yet. "He's in charge."

"I know," Selena said. "And you've been so careful since he yelled at you." Jason hadn't so much as touched Sara, even when it became awkward to avoid contact as they worked together, and she was clearly puzzled by the apparent rejection. "But Jeck's oblivious to how hard it is for both of you. Sara's been like the little sister he never had from the moment she showed up; he just wants to protect her and he doesn't understand why you don't feel exactly the same way."

"I'd never let anything hurt her."

"But you don't want to be her big brother." Selena took a triumphant bite.

"No." Jason swallowed and started cutting more bread for toast. "I've never felt this way about anyone before." He sighed and set down the knife. "But Jeck's right. I have a bad record."

"Not really," Selena said. "There isn't a single complaint about you circulating in the women's baths. You must be doing something right."

Jason blushed. "But this is different."

"I know." Selena said. "You could never have anything permanent with a seamstress. We both know you need someone tall and active enough to appreciate your cooking. And someone who's interested in the same things you are. Maybe someone like Sara."

Jason nodded and then swallowed and looked away. "But Jeck's right. I shouldn't take advantage of the fact that she's our apprentice."

"How else would you have met her?" Selena asked.

Jason shrugged.

"I can't imagine you taking advantage of anyone." Selena smiled. "What both you and Jeck are overlooking is the fact that Sara walked all the way here, which I would say proves she's quite capable of deciding what she wants in life and going after it. She might be an unsophisticated country girl, but she knows what she's doing."

Jason nodded. "I suppose she does."

"And you know that she's your apprentice and that she lives here and that you really want this to work. So you'll both be careful and thoughtful and take things slowly and all that." She smiled. "You two were doing just fine when Jeck and I walked in the other night."

"What about Jeck?" Jason asked.

Selena smiled. "Well, he's agreed to marry me, so I think I can make him see reason about a few other things too."

"Thanks," he said. "You don't have to—"

"You've intervened at a few critical points in my love life," Selena said. "And I've really appreciated it. I'm just returning the favor."

He shrugged. "Well, Jeck can be wonderfully stubborn, but I knew you were right for him."

Selena smiled and let the knowledge that she was actually going to marry Jeck wash over her. With it came the realization that she still had people to persuade.

"Would you be disturbed if I burst into tears right now?" she asked.

"Please tell me that was a hypothetical question," he muttered.

"Mithros, no, it wasn't," Selena whispered. "I have to go tell Wyldon."

Jason wrapped an arm about her shoulders. "Take a deep breath first," he counseled. "And eat your toast."

PDPD

Penelope found Neal already awake and working his way through his second mug of tea.

Neal scowled and offered her a cup of tea—which she refused for fear of upset—and they chatted as though it were one of their ordinary visits. It wasn't until she'd stepped out the door a few moments later that she realized she hadn't managed to ask him.

She took a deep breath and forced herself to turn around. This asking to be told what she already knew felt uncomfortably like begging for help. On the other hand, she was really going to be telling rather than asking, and she did want Neal to be the first to know.

Neal blinked at her as she entered, suddenly aware that they were going to have one of _those _talks. He sighed and opened his arms wide as she darted suddenly into his embrace.

"Neal," she said hurriedly, "I think I'm pregnant."

"I did wonder why you came to see me instead of joining the queen for glaive practice," Neal murmured, pushing her gently away so that he could look at her face. He was tempted to smile, but unsure whether or not she'd want him to.

"I haven't quite been myself in the mornings," Penelope admitted, smirking at him somewhat shyly. "Er, rather violently."

"Oh." Neal raised an eyebrow. "What an oddly appropriate comeuppance for someone who's trained herself to have an iron stomach on the battlefield."

"Please, I—we need to know for certain." Penelope hitched up her shirt and tunic.

Neal nodded and extended a green-fire rimmed hand. Then he nodded again, more decisively, and pulled her into a quick hug.

"Thanks," she whispered, wondering why she'd postponed this happiness for an entire week.

"Two months, I would guess," he said releasing her so that he could bustle around the room blending herbs. "I'm assuming, given the er—care you took during your squire years, that this is…"

"Not entirely unanticipated," Penelope finished calmly, lowering herself to sit on the edge of one of the cots. She felt slightly dizzy with the enormity of what Neal had just confirmed. "So, I should be due around—"

"Midsummer," Neal finished, "give or take a few weeks. It's becoming something of a trend among lady knights for reasons I have no particular desire to investigate." He pressed a mug of tea into her hands. "This will settle your stomach."

Penelope sniffed tentatively at it and frowned critically. "That's assuming I can drink it without gagging."

Neal scowled and added a large dollop of honey. "Any other complaints? Headaches? Stiffness?"

Penelope shook her head, "I'm mildly terrified, but for me that's a rather familiar condition. I'd be bored otherwise."

Neal leaned over and kissed her forehead. "You're both—you and Dalton and the baby—all of you are going to be wonderful." He watched her quietly while she drank her tea. She wasn't glowing, he decided, she was sparkling. Which, given that she was Penelope, made perfect sense.

"Morning practice started twenty minutes ago," she muttered, standing up and feeling suddenly full of excited energy. "And don't tell me I can't do that because you let Kel—"

"Just make me one small promise," Neal said, ushering her out the door.

She blinked at him.

"Let Dalton take care of you every once in awhile, when you're tired."

She smiled. "Who do you think dealt with the chamber pot this morning?" And she positively seemed to skip away.

PDPD

He was in the midst of demonstrating proper stance to a first year, but Dalton's gaze met Penelope's as soon as she appeared at the edge of the practice courts.

_I am, _she mouthed and he nodded at her, grinning broadly and resisting the urge to run to her and spin her around. Or at least, resisting it until Kel called a halt to training, at which point he sprinted straight to her.

PDPD

Selena marched tentatively towards Wyldon as the pages' practice ended for the morning. Out of long habit, she began helping him gather up spare equipment, which was just as well because it gave her something to do with her hands.

"I asked Jeck to marry me this morning, sir," she said quickly, "I'm not looking for your approval, my lord, but I thought you'd want to be informed."

"Thank you for doing so promptly this time around," Wyldon said, the whisper of a smile lurking in his words.

Selena nodded, flinching at the memory of the awkward silences they'd shared before she realized that he knew and did not mind that she was living with Jeck.

Wyldon glanced awkwardly at her. "You aren't ah—that is?"

"Are you attempting to ascertain whether or not I'm pregnant?" She asked quickly, but she spared him quickly. "I'm not. I just realized that I would have to write my own happy ending instead of waiting around for one."

Wyldon looked away for a long moment. If he raised his eyebrows, he'd lowered them before he turned back to her. "I presume he accepted your proposal—otherwise I gravely overestimated the lad's intelligence."

Selena nodded. "We thought you might like—that is…"

"Are you attempting to invite me to your wedding?"

His eyesight was fading and his hands had begun to tremble with age, but his looks still had the power to silence her on occasion. Selena nodded again.

"Incidentally, lady knight, you both have my approval and my blessing," Wyldon muttered, stepping close just long enough to kiss her forehead.

PDPD

Penelope laughed as Dalton tugged her into the stables, spun her around, and kissed her thoroughly.

"You're alright then?" He gripped her shoulders gently.

"I'm starving. I think my stomach's caught up with me." She knew he hadn't been asking about her physical well-being per say. But at the moment, aside from being unsure how she was going to share the news with Wyldon and Kel—not to mention the Lioness, and Selena and Rissa and Vina—she felt wonderfully alive (and hungry).

Dalton smiled and wrapped an arm about her shoulders, enfolding her in the warmth of his cloak. "I suppose a trip to the kitchens is in order, then."

They stepped out from the stables just in time to see Wyldon plant a kiss on Selena's forehead before the two nodded at each other and parted.

Selena blinked in surprise and waved when she spotted them.

"Wyldon reserves physical gestures for extreme circumstances," Penelope told Selena. "So you've either just lost a relative—which your giddy smile rules out—or saved the kingdom—which is possible but I think I'd have heard of it." Penelope smiled. "Or you and Jeck have finally worked around the like-must-wed-like nonsense."

"Something like that." Selena grinned, her eyes dancing over Penelope's face. "Someone looks awfully pleased with herself."

"Someone's going to have a baby." The words fell from her mouth, startling all three of them. There was one announcement over with.

Selena glanced from Dalton—who nodded and tightened his grip around Penelope's shoulders—to Penelope—who grinned widely—and then pulled both of them into a hug.

"I'm delighted," she said. "I sort of suspected you might be… after the centaurs, but I didn't want to mention it until…wow!" She grinned.

"Thanks," Penelope said, wondering suddenly who else might already have guessed. How long did she have to quietly sort out adjusted duties for herself?

"Don't worry," Selena told them. "I won't tell anyone. But you might want to give Wyldon a day or two—let him adjust to one thing at a time—before you make any kind of announcement. "

PDPD

Alanna arrived at the palace early the next afternoon. Penelope and Dalton rushed to meet her beside the stables just as she dismounted.

"Could we have word?" Dalton asked rather breathlessly.

Alanna nodded and then they froze.

Penelope blinked at the Lioness. The words that had come out so freely in front of Selena suddenly stuck in her throat. Dalton swallowed at his former knight mistress.

"I'll spare you—some things aren't easy to say," Alanna told them. "And I've a theory of my own." She set a violet-rimmed hand on Penelope's shoulder. "Which has indeed proven correct." She cleared her throat and extended a palm towards George who set a coin in it before he'd dismounted. She stuck it in her belt pouch and wrapped both arms around Penelope's shoulders, winking at Dalton.

"I do hope you'll find your voice again soon though, so you can raise your daughter to be as forthright as you usually are." That seemed to have the desired effect.

"Daughter?" they murmured together. Some men's voices might have registered disappointment, but Dalton's was just as delighted as his wife's, possibly more so.

"Yes," Alanna said. "As in female—"she paused just long enough for emphasis—"singular."

Penelope cast her eyes skyward in relief and Dalton grinned even wider, thinking he'd never yet fully appreciated the beauty of those two words.

George kissed Penelope's cheek and then clapped Dalton heartily on the back before dragging him away to deal with their horses.

"So," Alanna murmured when they were alone.

"I want this," Penelope said, laying a hand over her still-flat belly, "more than I've wanted anything since Dalton—or earning my shield even, but I'm afraid I won't be able to—"

Alanna took Penelope's hands in her own. "Are you good at breathing and blinking?"

Penelope was so puzzled by the question that she immediately ceased both functions until Alanna lifted one hand and gently tapped her cheek.

"Birth is also—usually—something your body just does. You can't be good or bad at it. Raising children is a little different—it is possible to smother them and end up with whiny incompetent brats—but it's also something you just do. You'll make mistakes—Goddess knows I did—and you'll make amends." Alanna sighed. "But you shouldn't measure yourself up to Kel or Daine or whichever wonderful mother you're comparing yourself to—it had better not be me—because you'll have to do it your own way, whatever way is best for you and Dalton and your child."

Penelope nodded, sniffling slightly. "I never knew my mother," Penelope muttered. And then she buried her head on Alanna's shoulder, crying quietly. "Sorry. I don't know what's gotten into me."

"I think we both know exactly what's gotten into you," Alanna whispered wryly. She lifted a hand to stroke the back of Penelope's braid. "I never knew my mother either. But I managed to find—and then make—a family of my own. You've done the same. At least, Neal and I—and probably Rissa and Vina—would both claim you and Dalton as part of ours. See—" she fished a handkerchief out of her belt-pouch and held it up to Penelope's nose—"blow."

Penelope did. And she felt immensely better afterwards.

PDPD

The next afternoon, Penelope was sitting alone, composing a letter to her aunt Nerina, when Wyldon knocked on her door.

"Good afternoon." He addressed Penelope, but bent briefly to scratch Bandit's ears.

"Come in." She gestured for him to take the chair and seated herself cross-legged on the edge of the bed. "Is there anything you need?"

"I'm hosting a small breakfast gathering tomorrow morning in honor of Selena's wedding. I am—I believe that the presence of Lady Alanna and her husband would be…congenial, but I have found that the two of us communicate best through indirect correspondence. I was hoping that you or Dalton might extend an invitation to her."

"Of course," Penelope said, "I'd be happy to." And then she realized that she ought to take advantage of this opportunity to consult with Wyldon about being removed from the battle-ready roster.

"Sir—" she began, but was interrupted by the knocking which began suddenly and didn't cease until Penelope had flung open the door to find a travel-worn Rissa standing outside it.

PDPD

"I almost slept with Berin," Rissa blurted, rushing into Penelope's arms almost as soon as she'd opened the door. It was only after the first few sobs that she noticed Wyldon sitting in the corner chair and scratching Bandit's ears.

He stood slowly, his expression unreadable as he studied Rissa's face.

"Er, sorry sir, I, um, didn't see you." Rissa stepped nervously towards him.

"Did he hit you?" Wyldon asked.

Rissa shook her head, puzzled by the question. Wyldon lifted one hand and tapped gently at a bruise on her forehead.

"Oh." Rissa blushed and studied her feet. "I was somewhat preoccupied when my horse spooked yesterday and I had an unexpected encounter with the road."

Wyldon nodded. "I can see that you came seeking confidential advice. I will not detain lady knight Penelope any longer." He nodded again at both of them and shut the door behind him as he left.

"Why was he here?" Rissa asked dazedly.

"We were discussing—Selena's marrying Jeck tomorrow."

"Oh." Rissa flinched as though the thought of Selena and Jeck reminded her of something painful. She sank down to sit on the rug and forced her lips into a smile. "How wonderful for them," she said finally, clearly meaning it.

"Rissa what were you thinking?"

"I was just trying to forget and not think about anything." Rissa burst into a second round of tears.

"Well," Penelope said, sitting on the floor beside Rissa and wrapping an arm around her. "I'd say you succeeded brilliantly at the second part at least."

Rissa snorted against Penelope's sleeve and wiped her eyes.

"Where's Vina? She wasn't in her room when I— And Dalton?"

"He's helping Vina bring Karyna inside. They should be back soon."

"Wait—what? Is she alright?"

"She will be, but she's been injured and discharged from active duty for the winter."

"Oh," Rissa said again. "Can I wait and start over when they get here?"

"Absolutely." Penelope stood up. "I'll make tea."

PDPD

"Excellent," Jeck said, examining the knife Sara had just finished. "Let's end here today. I have a few things to do this afternoon."

Sara nodded and untied her apron.

"I'd like a word though," Jeck said.

Sara swallowed nervously and sat on the nearest workbench. Jeck sighed thoughtfully and came to sit beside her.

"You're doing great work here," he said. "And I'm very glad you showed up at my doorstep when you did. I don't know how Jason and I would get everything done without you."

Sara looked away, blushing.

"Alright. I'll stop heaping well-deserved praise upon you."

Sara looked back at him and shrugged. "I suppose it's better than asking me to leave." She studied his face a moment. "But you aren't about to do that, are you?"

He shook his head. "You're completing all your duties for me and I want to make sure that I'm fulfilling all my responsibilities to you."

Sara blinked. "I'm fed, clothed, and sheltered. No complaints."

"I am you to be happy here, happy working with me—"he paused to catch her eye—"and Jason."

Her eyes dropped again. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"I think you were much happier—at least with Jason—about a week ago."

"You mean the last time he kissed me?" She said, so forthrightly that Jeck began to suspect that Selena had been right about her all along. But then, it probably took one decisive woman to recognize another.

Jeck nodded. "I think I may have made a mistake in telling him to keep his distance from you."

Sara frowned hopefully. "He didn't just decide he wasn't—"

"No," Jeck. "I was worried about it. I want you to feel comfortable living here and learning from us. I didn't want you to feel that your position here depended at all on any kind of relationship with Jason."

"But," Sara said slowly, "what if now that I am here, I've realized that I—" she broke off and fixed Jeck with an intent gaze. "He does like me then?"

Jeck nodded. "Very much, I think. And I've known him a long time. I would like to see things work out between the two of you, if it were your decision. So, you don't have to…but you have my permission. Do you understand?"

Sara nodded. "Thank you."

"And if he ever gives you any trouble," Jeck added, "you take it to me or—"

"Selena might be more effective."

"Quite possibly," Jeck conceded. "She always knows what she's doing."

"She's lucky to have you," Sara murmured, standing. "I know you'll be happy together."

"Thanks." Jeck gripped her elbow. "And I'm sorry I interfered."

Jason returned just then from his trip to the market.

"What was that about?" Jason asked.

"Nothing," Sara said, coming to wrap her fingers briefly over his forearm as she took the basket of food from him and set it on the table.

Jeck caught Jason's eye and nodded at the two of them.

"Alright," Jason said. "I'll take your word for it." He smiled. "Want to come for a walk with me?"

Sara nodded. "We should take Shadow. She could use the exercise."

Jason grinned and called for the dog. Then he settled one hand lightly over Sara's shoulder and ushered her out the door.

PDPD

"Alright," Penelope said once Vina and Karyna had settled themselves on the rug beside Rissa and Dalton had come to sit beside her on the bed. "Rissa, why don't you start at the beginning?"

"With Byrn," Vina clarified.

"I—he asked—he wanted me to marry him right away, just before his father died." Rissa swallowed. "And I just couldn't—" She bit her lip and wouldn't speak until Vina wrapped a hand over her shoulder. "It would have meant having children right way and rushing into all the responsibility of running the estate and I've worked so hard all these years for other things. I'm not sure I could live with being at Briarwood for the rest of my life."

"But," Vina said quietly, feeling that she would have said yes in Rissa's place, "you'd already agreed—"

"We'd acted like I would eventually because I thought I had more—He'd promised me time and then we ran out of it."

"And you weren't ready," Penelope said gently. "That's an excellent reason not to do something." She found a handkerchief and passed it to Rissa. "You can't make yourself become someone you aren't, even to be with someone you love."

"But I should have known that before." Rissa brushed a few furtive tears from her cheek. "I should never have let myself get so close when I couldn't be sure of the future."

"Rissa," Dalton murmured. "That would mean avoiding everyone. And I won't believe me if you tell me that you actually regret all the moments you spent with Byrn."

"No. Not really." Rissa sighed. "Even if we…didn't end well."

"What happened at Briarwood?" Vina was probably the only one who could have gotten away with this question.

"We said what we had to in order to separate," Rissa said, euphemistically condensing their terrible final words.

"And you do both have tempers," Vina murmured.

"He did most of the talking," Rissa muttered. "And I still had so much I wanted to say, but it was easier just to go. And, I don't know, I guess I hoped he might come after me."

Penelope sighed sympathetically. "Rissa," she whispered patiently, "why didn't you turn around?" That was what she'd hoped that she'd taught her squires to do.

Rissa shook her head. "I was guilty and angry at…everything. And then I ran into Berin at an inn one night and I was drunk and dumb and just wanted to move on and I almost slept with him."

They all greeted this confession with complete silence.

"Didn't you hear me?"

"I heard a very important almost," Dalton said quietly.

"Good," Rissa muttered. "Because apparently Berin's been leaving that part out when he tells people. And I've already had a couple fellow knights knock on my door asking for favors at inns on the way home."

Penelope clenched her teeth and Vina winced. Dalton stood abruptly and then sat down again, closer to Penelope.

"Rissa," Karyna spoke calmly, as though asking about a grain inventory, "how close was almost?"

"I don't know—five minutes, another glass of brandy, a few more steps towards the bed." She buried her face in her hands. "And then I came here and announced it to Wyldon."

"I tried to warn her," Penelope said, "but…"

"I take it he wasn't impressed," Dalton muttered.

"Well, it's always hard to tell with him," Penelope hedged.

"Oh, I think he was impressed," Rissa said, "only not in a good way." She swallowed. "I mean he didn't show any actual disapproval, but I could tell he was just as disappointed as you are."

"Rissa," Dalton started, "we aren't—"

"At least," Penelope amended, "I don't think we can possibly be as disappointed as you are with yourself."

"But," Vina said, "Wyldon doesn't seem to mind that I'm—"

"Apparently, that's different. I don't pretend to understand the inner workings of Wyldon's mind—"

"Well, you haven't lost your senses entirely then," Penelope put in.

"But apparently Wyldon would rather catch me passionately kissing Karyna in the infirmary."

Karyna tilted her head flirtatiously at Rissa. "Well, you're cute, sweetheart, and I would be tempted, but your sister would probably kill us both."

"Possibly with her glare," Dalton added, though Vina was smiling at her twin as Karyna settled back with her head in Vina's lap.

"Perhaps Wyldon has something against reckless one night stands," Penelope said.

Rissa nodded glumly.

"She didn't actually—" Dalton began.

"As good as," Rissa snapped. "What's the difference? A little dignity?"

"Rissa," Vina murmured. "You were so unhappy and confused and it wasn't actually your idea."

"I just wanted to be distracted…" Rissa swallowed. "And then I didn't…"

"From a certain perspective," Karyna said. "This might be a good sign."

Rissa raised an eyebrow.

"I mean, if you really wanted to move on we could easily find a thoughtful, good-looking Rider for you."

"I'm not—" Rissa started.

"A boy," Vina clarified. "You could probably even request a particular eye color."

"But," Karyna went on, "you stumbled upon someone particularly unsuitable, someone you would never be interested in otherwise, no matter how attractive and charming he can make himself on occasion."

"How is that a good sign?" Rissa asked, burying her hands in Bandit's fur.

"Well." Karyna paused. "Back when Vina and I were still sorting ourselves out, I randomly kissed another Rider." She glanced up at Vina, who shrugged.

"I kind of kissed another squire before I came to my senses," Vina muttered.

"So you aren't going to drop my head then?"

"At least not until I've heard the rest of this and you've recovered from your other injury."

"Anyway," Karyna continued, "he was one of the worst possible people I could have chosen. We'd always been rivals, we argued almost every other day, and I already knew I was only interested in women. But it was like I had to remind myself why he was all wrong in order to remember what I loved about Vina."

"I see," said Rissa.

"Who was it?" Vina asked mildly.

Karyna hesitated a moment. "Luke."

"Oh." Vina pursed her lips thoughtfully. "Is that why he's always shooting me dirty looks?"

"I'm afraid so."

"I see. He's not bad looking if you appreciate the blond and bearded type. We really ought to find someone else for him to…"

"You two sound like a couple of old married matchmakers," Dalton muttered.

"Someone has to," Penelope said, "since we don't yet."

"You don't suppose…" Karyna glanced at Rissa, who shook her head.

"You're right," she said simply. "It made me realize I'm not really mad at Byrn. I miss him." She swallowed. "Not that it matters anymore. I don't think he's going to be interested in exchanging apologies after he hears about this." She closed her eyes briefly. "That's the worst part, I think—I don't really care about the irreparable damage to my reputation, but I can't help worrying about how this will hurt him. Stupid, really, since that was the idea."

"You can keep your regrets if you want to," Vina told her twin. "But I do think corrective action can be taken in the case of Berin's faulty memory."

Rissa's smiled was somewhat forced, but it lingered in her eyes.

"Meanwhile, you can move your things into my room for a few days," Vina said firmly.

Rissa glanced at Karyna. "But isn't she convalescing in—"

Vina snorted. "She's spectacularly bad at convalescing. And cranky about it," she added, with a touch of justified irritation in her tone.

"Like so many other people I know," Dalton muttered against Penelope's cheek.

"And they're about to reward my valorous stupidity by burying me under a mountain of tedious and necessary paperwork." Karyna sat up and shrugged. "So you can't refuse on my account."

Penelope couldn't help grimacing at the good idea this gave her. Then she smiled for Rissa. "Stay with them," she said. "I'll enjoy the fact that someone else's room is more crowded than ours." Of course it wouldn't be theirs much longer, she and Dalton would have to find someplace bigger if they were going to fit a cradle and…

PDPD

"Alright?" Dalton asked, once he'd shut the door.

"I could learn to hate that word," Penelope muttered. But she nodded and dropped her hand so that her fingers splayed across her abdomen.

Dalton smiled and laid down beside her, kissing her cheek and settling his hand over hers.

"It just didn't seem like the time to tell them," Penelope said. "I know it shouldn't wait much longer, but I want them to be able to be happy with us. And Rissa seemed a little upset when she heard about Selena. I didn't want her to feel as though I were suggesting she'd made the wrong decision about…"

"That's why I asked if you were alright."

"Absolutely." She smiled down at their hands. "I know what I'm doing. Or I have a vague sense anyway." She grinned sheepishly. "Though we should probably get someone else to sew baby blankets and such."

Dalton chuckled. "Gran will be glad to."

"Goddess bless her," Penelope murmured fervently. "I'd probably put an eye out."

Dalton smiled and traced his thumb over her cheekbone. "I just—I know this is going to change everything, but I don't want you to feel trapped by it."

"I don't. I'm not. I'm doing just what I want." She lifted her head and kissed his nose. "I'm madly in love and mildly nauseated and momentarily worried and mostly content, but definitely not trapped." She tangled her fingers with his and sprang out of bed. "If you want to prove it, you can cheer me up by taking me out for an afternoon ride."

Dalton grabbed both their cloaks and whistled for Bandit. "Alright then."

Penelope grinned. "Or I could learn to love that word."

_And that concludes this week's behemoth update, but another eventful chapter is in the works:_

Penelope waited until she knew Kel's twins would be asleep before knocking on her door.

"I think I need some advice," she said when the training master answered.

PDPD

"That," Wyldon pronounced, "was an absolutely disgraceful act. Your behavior is impossible to condone in either a noble born lady or a knight of the realm."

She listened patiently to his censure.

"Your form was absolutely flawless," he conceded.


	35. Conditions

_Hello again! Many thanks to all who reviewed the last chapter and my apologies for the delay in posting this one—-it survived a plumbing emergency, a Swine Flu outbreak, a raccoon home invasion, and my sister's birthday! It summarizes content for the epilogue of Love and Money and makes unabashed use of characters and set created by Tamora Pierce. Enjoy! _

Penelope had not planned to announce her pregnancy at Selena's wedding—or at the gathering in Wyldon's suite that immediately followed it; she had felt the news could keep a few days more and not wanted to interrupt another occasion. But Mindelan, demonstrating either her dedicated focus or her utter inability to take her mind off her work, attempted to use the event to persuade Penelope and Dalton to take new squires in the spring.

And Penelope felt it wasn't fair to refuse without giving an honest explanation for doing so. Selena (who never enjoyed being the center of attention for long in any case) didn't seem to mind and the twins were absolutely delighted, mostly because it provided a perfect distraction for Rissa.

It was a relief to have it out in the open, but it also meant Penelope no longer had an excuse to put off making arrangements. And she still wasn't entirely sure what arrangements she wanted to go about making.

PDPD

That evening, Penelope waited until she thought Kel's twins would be asleep before knocking on her door.

"I think I need some advice," she said when the training master answered.

Kel smiled. "Come in." She gestured to an armchair that was already occupied by one cat. "Can I get you anything or are you avoiding food smells?"

"I think I could manage a few biscuits."

Kel nodded knowingly and set a plate between the two of them.

Penelope nibbled carefully at a biscuit. She'd been wrong about the twins' bedtime—she could hear the low rumble of Dom's voice in the next room as he told them a story. It was a very reassuring sound. She smiled, realizing the biscuit would stay down, and took a larger bite.

"Is there anything in particular you wish to discuss?" Kel asked.

"I definitely want to keep helping you as much as possible," Penelope said.

Kel smiled, her cheeks twitching with something like relief. "I'm glad to hear it."

"That's one of the only things I'm clear on," Penelope admitted. She swallowed the last of her biscuit and wrapped her hands over her knees. "I mean, when I planned…I didn't realize I'd suddenly feel so protective over someone I haven't even met yet."

"This is only the beginning." Kel shook her head happily. "No one's going to send you out on any missions this year or next year or until you are ready."

"That might be a while," Penelope admitted quietly. "I really don't want her to be an orphan."

Kel nodded. "So you have been thinking about all the difficult parts," she murmured.

"But I don't want to just sit here and do nothing for years," Penelope added. Then she blushed. "I mean not that helping you isn't—"

"It isn't quite enough for you," Kel said easily. "You've outgrown being an assistant. And you need work that feels like it's your own, even if you're doing it for someone else."

Penelope nodded and smiled, relieved to be understood. "So, I've realized there is lots of desk work to be done around the palace. And it might not be ideal—I'm not even naïve enough to think it's easy just because it doesn't involve riding out in wet weather—but if it needs to be done, I could make myself useful."

"That's brave of you."

Penelope shrugged. "At least part of the time anyway…I feel like there's so much—we definitely need to move to a bigger room—"she rolled back her shoulders—"that should come first, I think." She drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly.

"I agree absolutely." Kel smiled. "With all of that. I'm just not sure why you're here asking for advice when you already seem to know what to do."

"Oh." Penelope blinked. "Sorry, I—"

"Don't be." Kel offered her a hand up and then a hug. "You're welcome to come run ideas by me anytime. And I've heard that the empty rooms just down the corridor get excellent morning light. You might want to ask about them."

"Thanks," Penelope said. "I will."

"And try knocking on Dom's door tomorrow," Kel added. "He's been complaining that he doesn't have enough time to coordinate training exercises for new troops."

"I don't know how to thank you for—"

Kel waved her away. "Be sure you want to first."

PDPD

Dalton was reading in bed when Penelope returned. Thoroughly absorbed, he barely looked up at her as he nodded, but he managed to shut his book and blow their candle out just as soon as she'd finished changing and washing.

"Dalton," Penelope murmured as she crawled into bed beside him, "promise me something?"

"George has warned me not to say 'anything' at moments like this," Dalton whispered. "But"—he wrapped an arm around her and pulled her close—"I love you so much that I'm only going to add a 'within reason'."

"If I—if anything happens to me—"

She felt, rather than saw, Dalton's wince as he tightened his arm around her. "Does this have to do with the fact that your mother died giving birth?" he asked. "Because it's starting to sound like the kind of promise I don't want to contemplate."

"Sort of." Penelope sighed. "But she was only sixteen and she certainly hadn't earned her shield yet, so I think it's reasonable to assume that I'm a bit sturdier than she was. And Neal's not worried."

"That is a good sign," Dalton muttered, "since he worries about almost everything."

"This is more about the possibility of my being chopped to pieces in six or seven years," Penelope said, refusing to be sidetracked. "So just humor me. I'm pregnant."

"Alright," Dalton murmured. "But this is going to wind up being one of those things that I'd obviously do anyway."

Penelope settled her head against his shoulder. "Promise me that you won't leave her alone if anything happens to me. She can't—I don't want her to have to grow up without parents."

"She won't." Dalton kissed her cheek. "I promise I will be there no matter what happens to you." He pressed his forehead to hers. "Now, promise me I won't have to keep that one alone."

She did so silently, pressing her lips to his.

"And you can't get yourself killed before she's born," she whispered, "because then I'd have this impulse to name her after you and I don't think your name would sit well on a girl."

"It certainly wouldn't sit well on my conscious," Dalton muttered, using the sheet to wipe away a tear that had spilled onto her cheek. "Our daughter deserves a name all her own, preferably something feminine but not frilly."

PDPD

"See?" Selena murmured as she and Jeck walked down the stairs the next morning.

Jason stood beside Sara at a workbench; he had one arm draped over her shoulders and was gesturing with the other hand to explain the work they were about to do. They were obviously engrossed, but still smiling occasionally at one another.

Shadow was watching them with a chaperone-like, but not entirely disapproving, expression that proved she'd been bred by Wyldon.

"Yes." Jeck sighed contentedly. "You were right." He lifted her hand and kissed it. "It's working."

PDPD

"Oh, good," Dom said when Penelope appeared at his office door in the early afternoon. "Kel mentioned that you might come by and I was hoping you could help me with a few projects here."

"Wait," Penelope said. "I don't want you to choose me just because—"

"You're well-qualified and volunteering," Dom said. "Those are two fairly solid reasons as far as I'm concerned."

Penelope nodded. "But if there's someone better for the job…I shouldn't get special privileges because I'm pregnant and I know your family."

"Shouldn't is not how the world works," Dom muttered, leading her past several map-covered tables.

"I know," Penelope said, "but—"

"This is most definitely not make-work charity," Dom told her, gesturing at a desk covered in thick piles of papers. "Or, not on my part anyway." He smiled. "You may sometimes feel that you're donating your time to an all-but-lost cause."

"These are field reports," Penelope said, coming to examine some of the documents. "I take it you need someone—me to read through them and analyze the Own's strengths and weaknesses and then come up with a training plan that will improve performance."

"Exactly. Only while you're at it, we also need you to double-check reported supply losses against inventory accounts to make sure none of our commanders is—"

"Supplementing his income with the crown's supplies," Penelope finished.

Dom grinned. "Neal said he'd instilled you with a healthy sense of cynicism."

"He can't claim all the credit," she said. "When should I start?"

Dom answered by pulling out a chair for her. "Call me if you have any more questions," he added before heading back towards his own desk.

Penelope nodded absently, already reaching for the nearest file.

PDPD

The week that followed Selena's wedding was not an easy one for Vina. Rissa put on a brave face for the rest of the world, even flirting occasionally on the practice courts, but she wound up teary and withdrawn whenever she retreated to Vina's room. Karyna, meanwhile, was well enough to report for desk duties in the Rider barracks and to bring stacks of work back to Vina's. but still in enough pain to be tired and irritable. Ordinarily, Vina might have complained to Dalton or Selena about the fact that everyone she loved seemed to be falling apart, but she didn't want to intrude on their happy preoccupations.

So, she would have been the first to admit that she was already not in the best of tempers when she spotted Berin swaggering across the courtyard, carrying what she recognized as Rissa's cloak. Ultimately, though, she managed to find the sight a cheering one.

She cursed under her breath when he waved at her. Then, after a moment's thought, she tugged her features into a smile and adjusted the tilt of her head so that she resembled Rissa as exactly as possible as she started towards him.

"Evening Lady Larissa," Berin called, pitching his voice to carry to anyone else who might be in the courtyard. "I believe you left this on my bed the other night. I know you'll want it for further cold-weather ventures. What will you do to earn its return?"

"I'm afraid the evening in question wasn't particularly memorable." Vina also pitched her voice to carry. "I might need a closer look."

"Very well." Berin shrugged carelessly and stepped directly before her, reaching for her shoulder with one hand.

Vina smiled flirtatiously and then punched him in the jaw. "It's my sister's actually, but I'll see that she gets it back," she said, snatching the cloak from him. She cast one unsympathetic glance at the hand he'd lifted to cradle his sore face and rushed away.

She was too busy folding the cloak to watch where she was going and almost ran into Wyldon on her way inside. She didn't bother wandering how much he'd seen. He was Wyldon—he never missed anything.

"That," he pronounced, "was an absolutely disgraceful act. Your behavior is impossible to condone in either a noble born lady or a knight of the realm."

She listened patiently to his censure. "I agree, sir," she said when he had finished. "I would apologize, but I understand that knights are expected to be honest in all things. What I did was petty and rude and far too satisfying to regret."

Wyldon drew a slow breath. "Your form was flawless," he conceded.

Vina nodded slowly in acknowledgement of this praise and stepped silently aside so that he could continue his evening walk.

PDPD

When she reached her room, Vina found Karyna sitting at her table, looking through Rider supply logs, and Rissa stretched across her bed, reading a letter.

"It's gotten back to Great Aunt Angraine," Rissa remarked as she entered.

"Your momentary lapse in judgment?" Vina tossed up the cloak as evidence. "Or my 'unnatural' attachment to a beautiful Rider captain?" She bent and pressed her cheek briefly to Karyna's.

"Mine—put that to be washed," Rissa muttered, batting the cloak away.

"Boiled," Karyna suggested and kissed Vina before turning her eyes back to the numbers she was adding.

Vina threw the cloak in the wash pile and stirred the fire once before dropping cross-legged onto the rug. "And what's she told our dear father to do about it?" she asked Rissa.

"She's told him to disown me for the disgrace"—Rissa paused to scan further—"but he's generously decided not to. Though, it's rather pragmatic, if you ask me, I mean—"

"He can only disown you once." Vina grinned. "And then he loses the ability to threaten it and he has absolutely no control over your behavior, but—"

"Everyone will still know we're related," Rissa finished smugly. Then she read the last several lines. "She's also recommended marrying you off immediately before you can do something similar. Father's rather more taken with that idea and he plans to have you meet Lord Stewart over midwinter."

"Really?" Vina stretched her arms overhead. "He found someone that rich?"

Karyna lifted her gaze hesitantly from the column of numbers she was checking. "Just so we're clear—"she swallowed and touched a hand to Vina's shoulder—"I don't think I could—I won't participate in adultery."

Vina stiffened and Rissa started scrambling for an excuse to leave before they began arguing. Then Vina sighed.

"Just so we're clear—"she stretched a hand towards Rissa, who understood immediately and passed the letter to her—"I'll never ask you to." She stood and brushed her lips against Karyna's cheek before casting the letter into the fire.

Rissa smiled faintly as she watched it burn. The other two were blinking dazedly at one another in a way that made her miss Byrn.

"I'm still more likely to be disinherited," Rissa informed her twin once the letter had vanished.

Vina grinned. "I'll buy you a celebratory drink once I've seen proof in Aunt Angraine's own handwriting."

PDPD

The next day was an eventful one. Penelope and Dalton moved into their new suite and Rissa took over their old room. Neal banned Penelope from "any kind of participation in the transportation of large or weighty items" so she was consigned to folding and organizing while Vina and Selena helped Dalton and Rissa rearrange furniture and carry chests of clothes.

By late afternoon they'd managed to move everything to the right rooms and begin settling in. Penelope began wondering how she and Dalton would ever fill the vast expanse of space that was now theirs. Even with Bandit doing his best to strew boots and slippers through all three rooms, the suite felt much larger and less cozy than the room Rissa had taken over.

Then Jeck and Karyna arrived, each carrying a basket of baked goods from Jason. And Penelope was pleased to discover that seven people could fit easily around their new table. Once Alanna and George arrived and insisted on helping fix tea, it actually felt comfortably crowded.

Neal stuck his head in the door as though he'd been summoned by the food. "Can someone explain to me why Berin's arrived in the infirmary this afternoon with a black eye, a bloody nose, sprained fingers, a few loose teeth, and assorted bruises?"

Vina blinked innocently. "I couldn't tell you, sir. All I did was punch him in the jaw."

"Nose," Selena confessed easily, raising a hand as though to mark her attendance at a meeting.

"Eye," Karyna added. "I felt responsible for what happened," she explained, "since Berin's been mad at me and Vina for a while."

"You really shouldn't be exerting yourself so soon after your injury," Neal informed her sternly. Then he fixed his gaze on the next woman at the table.

"Well," Penelope said. "I tried to challenge him, but apparently word's gotten around and he refused to duel a woman in my condition. So I had to settle for knocking him over Shang style."

"I can't blame him," George put in. "Your training schedule is far more rigorous."

"He was absurd about it," Penelope said. "It isn't as though I'm big and slow yet. I'm not even showing. And I haven't thrown anything up for five days."

"She says that like it's a significant achievement," Vina muttered.

"It is." Neal, Dalton, and Alanna spoke simultaneously and emphatically.

"But," Neal added, "I rather doubt that she possesses the capacity to become big and slow. At most she'll manage larger and less fast than usual."

"Thank you for that vote of confidence," Penelope told him. "And please pass the scones."

Neal did so and turned to Alanna. "That leaves the sprained fingers unaccounted for."

She shrugged. "Well, since I'm still unjustly prohibited from challenging men on personal grounds, I was forced to resort to similarly underhanded and unconventional methods."

"Well, Rissa, you should feel very loved," Dalton said. Then he found himself enduring Neal's scrutiny. "All we did was exchange opinions. Apparently he thought it was a deadly insult to tell me I couldn't control my wife."

"That's just an observation of the general human condition," George muttered.

"Naturally, I gave him my opinion of his opinions." Dalton shrugged. "I'm afraid I used some honest, but rather unflattering language."

"But you didn't challenge him?" Rissa asked, her expression suggesting that she would be very angry if Dalton had.

"A man in his confused condition?" Dalton grinned. "I wouldn't dream of it."

"He also complained that his sword had broken," Neal remarked.

"I really hope that's a metaphor," Rissa muttered.

"No such luck," Selena informed her. "Apparently Sara demanded an object lesson in the importance of bringing weapons' metals to exactly the right temperature just after Berin placed an order yesterday. And Jeck"—she glanced at her husband with fond exasperation—"decided it was worth losing a customer to satisfy her curiosity."

"She sounds like a fast learner," George commented.

Jeck smiled. "That's why she's my apprentice," he told George, somewhat pointedly.

"Rissa?" Neal asked.

"Oh, well, all this explains why I haven't encountered him at all yet," Rissa said. "And at this point, I can just ignore him when I do—assuming he refrains from offering further insult."

PDPD

"Rissa." Alanna caught her shoulder as they were leaving and pulled her gently aside. "How are you handling the whole will-sleep-with-anyone reputation?"

Rissa bit her lip angrily.

"I had one once," Alanna reminded her. "I'm allowed to ask. I know it isn't easy."

Rissa nodded. "No, but there has been one advantage." She quirked her lips to one side. "It's shown me who my friends are—and not just the ones back there." She tilted her head back towards Penelope and Dalton's door. "There are other knights—and a few more of them than I would have guessed—who aren't treating me any differently on the practice courts. They might be wondering about me, but they're letting me be. So some people are snubbing me or suggesting things… but others I feel like I can trust."

"Good," Alanna said. "And Byrn?" But she vanished after George before Rissa could answer.

PDPD

"How do you think Rissa really is?" Dalton asked as soon as he'd closed the door behind Jeck. She didn't answer. Dalton frowned and turned around.

Penelope and Bandit were curled in one of the new chairs, both dozing. The dog lifted his head apologetically at Dalton but made no move to get up. Dalton tiptoed over and kissed Penelope's forehead.

"I'm worried," she said, opening her eyes easily, "but I want to believe she'll be alright."

"She will," Dalton promised. "In her own good time."

"I know." Penelope sighed and nudged Bandit off her lap. "That might be years though. I've tried reassuring her that she hasn't done anything wrong. I mean except for…" She stood up and shrugged her way under his arm. "But the truth is there wasn't really a right choice for her to make either. She was going to wind up with regrets whatever she decided. It wasn't what she—or Byrn—deserved."

She shook her head and started tidying up the tea dishes. "That wasn't the kind of incorrigibly optimistic thing I meant to say. Rissa could be worse off—at least she knows where she is in the world and she feels responsible for what she does in it."

Dalton took a stack of plates from her. "Arielle's coming to court this winter," he muttered abruptly as though this would separate the two topics. "I mean everyone's coming to see us, but they're hoping to find a husband for her." He swallowed. "I don't mean to be overly protective or to imply that she can't make her own decisions, but I worry…" He glanced at the scone Rissa had crumbled between her fingers.

"Don't." Penelope eyed him thoughtfully. "If she uses you as a comparative model, she'll have incredibly high standards and it take her a while to find someone almost as wonderful."

Dalton cocked his head at her. "Was that facetious or flirtatious?" He tossed a bit of bread at her.

"A bit of both, I suppose." She caught the bread and pegged at his forehead. "And also factual."

Dalton grinned and ducked. Bandit snatched up the bread and wisely ate it before his people could begin a food fight and distract themselves from unpacking all the items that made his life so comfortable.

_Thanks for reading and reviewing! Eventfully Ever After will draw to a close with the midwinter season (to be covered by one or two more chapters) and be capped with an absolutely epic and ridiculously fluffy epilogue. Meanwhile, your sneak preview is in untagged dialogue:_

"Byrn and his mother just arrived."

"And?"

"He looks good in black."


	36. Distance

_Hello again! Many thanks to all who reviewed the last chapter and I appreciate your patience in waiting for this one—I've been applying to grad school and settling into (yet another) part-time job…But you can think of it as real time simulation because this chapter takes place a few weeks after the previous one, in which Penelope and Dalton moved and Rissa found a little vicarious revenge. It also contains themes, characters, and imaginative real estate belonging to Tamora Pierce. Enjoy! _

Penelope had been working at her desk in the Own's office for a few hours when she was interrupted by a knock at the door. Realizing that Dom was absent, she answered it herself and was somewhat surprised to find Karyna standing outside, holding up a sheaf of papers.

"I have news," she said, her tone laden with opinion.

"I'm not going to like it, am I?" Penelope muttered.

"At least you won't have to live it," Karyna assured her before explaining the latest orders she'd received.

"Who decided it would be a good idea for the Own and the Riders to share a midwinter celebration?" Penelope asked when she'd finished. "And just what is the reasoning behind the plan to put two combat services with a long history of sometimes-beyond-friendly rivalry in a large room with lots of alcohol and candles?"

"I wouldn't like to name names," Karyna answered. "And I heard terms like 'cooperative spirit' and 'interservice unity' bandied about, but I suspect it has more to do with budget constraints—one party is cheaper than two."

"Which suggests that they haven't taken the potential—by which I mean inevitable—damage to property and egos into account."

"They have—that's the best part actually," Karyna told her. "Rider captains and Own commanders have all been ordered to attend in a 'sober supervisory capacity'."

Penelope winced. "You're going to have a spectacularly long evening."

"Is she?" Vina stuck her head through the open door, grinning. "Am I invited?"

"Only if you're feeling particularly saintly and patient on midwinter's eve," Karyna told her.

Vina shrugged. "I'll get there when I can."

Dalton rushed into the room without bothering to make any clever interruptions. Instead he hurriedly wrapped a hand around Penelope's shoulder and bent to murmur in her ear.

"Byrn and his mother just arrived."

"And?"

"He looks good in black." Dalton shrugged. "Even I could see that."

"We could have told you that without looking," Penelope muttered, trying to keep the worry from her voice. "Some people do."

"It's the stupid grey eyes," Karyna said, rubbing absently at her own.

"They aren't stupid," Vina protested. "Or not yours anyway," she added, realizing she was still rather angry with Byrn.

"Of course." Karyna agreed, wrapping her hand over Vina's elbow. "But intelligent grey eyes are arguably even more devastating than bovine ones."

"I wouldn't know," Vina murmured. "You never wear black."

"I have two white ponies," Karyna informed her. "It would be a disaster."

"Would you stop flirting," Dalton muttered, "and help us figure out how to tell Rissa?"

Vina bit her lip. "Don't," she said finally. "I mean, you can mention it casually, but don't sit her down and tell her. You'd never do that with any other guest getting here for the holidays. And she'll figure it out on her own as soon as she passes by the stables anyway."

Penelope nodded. "That's probably best. She'd really hate having to be told as though we expect her to react badly. But it is complicated and I'm not sure how much we should…er, hello Rissa." She wrenched her features into a smile as Rissa entered the now fairly crowded office.

"Hey." Rissa nodded back at her. "I didn't want to interrupt your work, but I was actually just looking for her." She tilted her head at Vina.

Penelope rolled her eyes and Karyna protested that she hadn't intended to start an invasion.

"Well," Rissa turned to her twin, "how did it go?"

Vina swallowed hard, stiffening as Karyna released her elbow and stepped away.

Dalton's eyes narrowed. "How did what go?"

"Lunch with Lord Stewart." Rissa answered for Vina. "Although," she added thoughtfully to Vina, "I could have gone in your place—he probably wouldn't have known the difference."

"He's not your type," Vina said lightly. "Actually, I think we're a perfect match. It only took us ten minutes to establish that neither of us is inclined to desert our present lovers and pursue matrimony, but that we're both willing to satisfy our families by smiling and making small talk throughout the season." She smiled as Karyna's fingers returned to her elbow. "And then he paid for the entire meal in the interest of keeping up appearances."

"That might make him my type." Rissa smirked. "And who's his present—"

"I didn't think it polite to ask." Vina grinned. "But Lord Timwell sat alone at the next table and spent the first part of the meal glaring at me."

"It sounds as though you and Stewart have just enough in common to be an excellent match," Dalton muttered.

Vina nodded but then sighed. "Which means I'm going to have to look up the nuances of cloud identification in order to have something to say to Stewart at our next encounter."

Rissa smiled. "Easy. The wispy ones are cirrus, which would bring good weather for a circus, and the puffy cumulus ones could cause bad weather."

"And how do you know this?" Vina demanded. She was usually the slightly more studious twin.

"I've been doing a lot of reading lately." Rissa's face tightened. "And riding and…by the way, Byrn's here."

"Is he?" Dalton tilted his head thoughtfully and nudged Penelope to keep her from smirking. "I didn't know he planned to be at the palace so soon."

PDPD

Penelope felt much more wholeheartedly welcoming towards the next week's arrivals, whom she waited at the front gate to greet. She smiled involuntarily and squeezed Dalton's fingers as his mother and sisters approached. They waved and grinned back at her.

"Hello dear." Dalton's mother, Meril, wrapped Penelope in her arms as Dalton helped Grania dismount. "You look lovely," she murmured, clearly meaning it. "And I don't think I've ever seen him so full of joy."

Penelope met Meril's eyes, realizing again that they were identical to Dalton's, and suddenly knew—in what she suspected Alanna would call a 'leap of intuition'—that her daughter would have the same green eyes. The thought made her want to laugh aloud. Instead, she hugged Meril back.

"Thanks," she whispered.

And then she was caught between Arielle, who was kissing her cheek and asking if Penelope would help her improve her archery skills, and Grania, who was kissing her cheek and assuring her that she had already made three blankets and would begin sewing baby clothes that evening.

This was the beginning of a whirlwind that lasted until midwinter's eve. Penelope spent her mornings with Arielle or the pages, her afternoons organizing materials for the Own, and her evenings at family meals that usually ended when she fell asleep against Dalton's shoulder.

She didn't see much of Vina or Rissa, but she scarcely saw Byrn either, so she assumed that they were alright. At least until everyone gathered for the ball on midwinter's eve.

PDPD

"She borrowed that dress from you, didn't she?" Grania asked Vina as Rissa appeared. The rest of them had been waiting for several minutes at the point where their paths to the grand hall intersected.

Vina, who was wearing a simple green dress, blinked. "You can tell?"

Grania shrugged. "It's probably perfect on you. But it doesn't suit your sister at all."

Vina nodded in agreement and giggled softly at Dalton's bewildered scowl.

"They look identical," Dalton informed her.

"It went over my head too," Penelope assured him.

"But dresses are for people," Grania lectured, "not just bodies. For instance"—she gestured to Penelope—"many women with her complexion look lovely in pink, but I would never even dream of suggesting it for her."

Penelope nodded in sudden insight and gratitude.

"That dress," Grania continued, pointing at the one Rissa was wearing, "is elegantly subtle and modest and obviously Vina's. Rissa does better in bright colors."

"Alright," Dalton muttered affably, "if you say so."

"I do," Grania assured him in a whisper, before lifting her hand to greet Rissa, who nodded back at them and smiled a little too fixedly as they strolled into the ballroom and scattered amid its festivities.

PDPD

Byrn approached stealthily enough to make Penelope start when he tapped her shoulder.

"Might I have a dance?" His voice was confident but he glanced guiltily away.

Penelope nodded somewhat reluctantly and took his hand. She'd never been one for letting discomfort get in the way of awkwardness.

"So," Byrn said once they'd established an easy rhythm, "I understand congratulations are in order."

Penelope nodded again before she stifled the slow, involuntary smile sweeping across her face. "And I wish to offer you my condolences," she told him, realizing she meant it.

"For which loss?" He grimaced briefly and then drew his face back into a formal smile. "But I really do wish you all the best," he said. "You and Dalton were always good to…us." He swallowed and his eyes darted around the room as though seeking Rissa.

Penelope dipped her head in acknowledgement and they were silent for another minute.

"I know you'll raise a wonderful child," he said finally. "I hope to have the honor of meeting her someday."

"I'm sure you'd be a good influence," Penelope said.

Byrn smiled. "In any case"—he shrugged and gestured towards Neal and Alanna, who were watching them with interest—"I should let you get back to enjoying your evening." He squeezed her fingers and spun around, hurrying away.

PDPD

"You've done enough," Rissa told Dalton when they reached the edge of the floor. "I'm not really in the mood to dance anyway." She shrugged sadly.

Dalton nodded at her, sighing under his breath, but did not release her hand.

"Really, go on." She glanced back towards where they'd left Penelope and saw her dancing with Byrn. "Enjoy your evening." She nudged him away. "I think I'll just get something to drink."

"Alright, Rissa." Dalton squeezed her fingers. "Take care of yourself."

She forced a smile and started away, making it about seven steps before she started hearing whispers.

"That's her there…in the brown…I thought she was supposed to be pretty…Well, she was also supposed to be somewhat faithful and we all know how that…"

Rissa elbowed past the gossipers and got herself a glass of wine only to wander into another cloud of scandal chasers.

"I do pity poor Byrn…but this is probably for the best…She'd have been a disaster as duchess…now he can find a proper wife and forget about his little adventure with her…"

Rissa's hand wasn't actually shaking, but she dropped her full wineglass just for the satisfaction of watching something shatter. Then she turned her back on the blood-colored puddle and stalked blindly away, rushing for the back doors without even stopping for her cloak.

PDPD

"Vina?" Byrn held out his hand to her.

Vina took it, still oddly glad that he could tell them apart.

"What are you doing?" she demanded.

"Dancing with you."

"Here, I mean." She swerved to avoid being elbow by the neighboring couple.

"I could ask you the same," he said.

"I'll be leaving soon," she informed him. She'd already danced with Neal, Dalton, Wyldon, and Lord Stewart and the food in the Rider barracks was likely to be simpler and better than that laid out for the nobles. "And you haven't answered my question."

"Do I need to?"

She raised an eyebrow at him.

""I'm supposed to be representing Briarwood during the courtly festivities and finding a wife this winter season." He sighed. "But I'm not about to propose to you just because your sister turned me down," he assured her. "I can think of a few frighteningly capable women who might want to kill both of us if I did that."

"It wouldn't end well," Vina agreed, grinning slightly.

"But I don't—" he sighed. "You aren't just Rissa's sister to me. You're good company in your own right. And I'd hate to lose—I just want you to know that you—and Karyna—will always be welcome at Briarwood."

"I…thanks—you too." She winced. "You know what I mean."

He grinned. "I'd also like to know if you can tell me where Rissa is?" He swallowed. "And how she is?"

"We don't actually have supernatural senses, you know." Vina spun lightly in time with the music. "I'm not privy to her every experience—a fact you of all people ought to appreciate."

"I do," he assured her. "But you are often uncannily aware of one another's moods and whereabouts," he said. "And you probably saw which door she left through."

Vina nodded.

"So, will you tell me where she might be?"

Vina smiled. "She took the door near the back garden. She—we, actually, often pace near the willow when we want to think about something."

"I see." The music came to a stop. "And would you like a partial escort in the direction of the Riders' barracks?"

"I think I might," Vina said. "If it isn't out of your way."

"I hope not," he said, offering her his arm.

"Let's collect Selena too then. She'll want to return to her scene of domestic bliss."

Byrn nodded. "I envy her occasionally."

"I know." Vina smiled. "Me too."

PDPD

"Back so soon?" Jeck took Selena's cloak as she stepped through the door.

"Well, my handsome husband refused to come and be flaunted," she said, "so I didn't have any reason to stay long."

"It wouldn't have gone over well," Jeck muttered, but he was already pulling her into his arms.

"I don't care." Selena kissed his cheek. "Anyway," she added in a louder voice and for Jason's benefit, "I know the food will be better here."

"I don't know. The cooks look a little distracted this evening." Jeck glanced back at the stove, where Jason was taking his time about wiping a splatter of sauce off Sara's cheek as they argued about whether or not they should add more salt to it.

"I don't mind waiting," Selena said, taking Jeck's hand and leading him to a workbench where they could sit together. She grinned as Shadow came to drape her head over Jeck's knee. "I'm fairly confident this will be worth it."

PDPD

Penelope was rather surprised to find herself standing beside the king at the buffet table when she and Dalton paused from dancing to gather with his family and their friends. She was rather more surprised to realize that Jon—somehow Alanna's presence made it easier to think of him by name—shared her addiction to ginger biscuits. This knowledge, unfortunately, made him easier to talk back to when he became the eighteenth person to accompany an innocent enough question with a meaningful nod.

"How are you, lady knight?"

"Sick and tired of being asked such a boring question, sire, especially when everyone expects to hear only one answer—"I'm fine"—regardless or its truth or relevance." Penelope shrugged. "Otherwise, I am, in fact, in a state of reasonably good health and happiness." She winced thoughtfully. "And, erm, aware that I probably ought not to offer such cheek under other circumstances."

"Well," Thayet observed, "she's obviously enjoying the excuse to say whatever she damn well pleases."

"Probably a little too much," Penelope admitted gleefully.

"That was always my favorite part of being pregnant," Alanna added.

"This from the woman who's been recklessly speaking her mind since she was a ten year old boy," the king observed.

"And most certainly did not stop after giving birth to her children," George muttered.

Alanna shrugged. "Well, after a certain age you can say what you want anyway."

"And what age is that?" Wyldon asked.

There was a long silence during which Kel frowned pensively, Thayet stifled a laugh, and Neal, George, and Dalton made some rapid calculations based upon the distance between Wyldon and Alanna and the length of time since their last argument.

"I believe the number of years required is inversely related to the degree of outrageous eccentricity one is willing to exhibit in dress and personal habits," Grania explained finally.

"I see," Wyldon murmured. "Mindelan may have a long wait ahead of her then."

Kel smiled. "I think I can handle it."

PDPD

"I should have known," Rissa muttered when Berin strolled up beside the willow tree that she thought of as hers.

"As should I," he said. "You clearly enjoy your moonlit strolls. Who are you stringing along tonight?"

Rissa couldn't think of a witty reply so she stayed silent, hating him for intruding upon her sulk.

"Can't interest the lads anymore?" he continued.

"You're still interested," Rissa remarked. "Unfortunately, I don't find you interesting."

He smirked. "Your sister seems to have the same problem."

"Say another word about her," Rissa snarled. "And you and I will be 'dancing' on the dueling grounds tomorrow. At dawn. I don't care if it is midwinter."

"And what makes you so sure you'll win that—"he caught sight of something behind Rissa and paused, a horrible smile creeping across his face. "Well, look who's come to witness for us."

"You never do anything worth watching."

It was Byrn. Rissa swallowed hard but could not bring herself to glance back at him. She'd carefully avoided encountering him since his arrival, even when it meant taking long, roundabout paths from her room to the stables. This was partly because she didn't think he'd want to see her and mostly because she didn't like seeing, whenever she glimpsed him, that he looked as miserable as she felt.

"You just don't like seeing her with me," Berin said.

Rissa heard the scuff of Byrn's boots as he shifted his stance.

"I couldn't care less, actually, but she's easier on the eye than you are."

Berin took the bait, shoving Byrn out of his path as he stormed away.

PDPD

Penelope planted her forehead against Dalton's chest, slumping lazily against him as they danced.

"Time to go home?" he asked.

She nodded, her eyelids already drifting downwards. "Remind me why we moved so much farther away from the great hall."

He chuckled. "For the same reason you're too tired to want to walk there," he murmured, hauling her upright and wrapping an arm around her shoulders.

"Mmmmph." Penelope settled her head against his arm and shut her eyes again.

"Our young people have absolutely no sense of decorum or merriment," George observed as they passed him and Alanna. "It's positively shameful the way they're deserting the festivities."

The king shrugged in agreement. "I suppose at this rate Wyldon will be the last one dancing."

"He still has the lungs for it," Thayet remarked. "But he's never been one for trends and patterns."

"In any case," Alanna added, "he's a little too old. And they're—"she waved towards Dalton and Penelope, but included Neal, Dom, and Kel—"a little too young. Our generation has always had the best sense of fun."

Neal tapped Dom's shoulder. " I do believe, dear cousin, that we've been challenged."

Dalton slowed his retreat just long enough to offer a little tactical advice. "Don't drink anything from George."

"And expect your opponents to be ruthless," Penelope added, stifling her laugh against Dalton's arm.

Afterwards, the walk didn't seem quite so long and she was soon curled comfortably against Dalton, a heavy quilt keeping them warm and a happily snoring dog at their feet.

PDPD

Rissa waited until Berin's footsteps had faded entirely away before turning slowly around.

"Evening," Byrn said lightly, nodding as though they had only just encountered one another on a leisurely stroll.

"Evening," she repeated. "It's rather chilly tonight," she added stupidly. "I've forgotten my cloak." She winced, realizing this was not the thing to mention given the rumors that were still circulating from the last time she'd left her cloak behind. "I should go back in." She nodded awkwardly and started down a different path than the one Byrn had used.

"Rissa, wait, I want to apologize."

Startled, she turned around again, feeling that she was the one who ought to be apologizing.

"Why?" she whispered.

He stepped close enough to set a hand on her shoulder before answering. "I still love you."

She swallowed hard, staring at the fingers he'd left on her shoulder.

"And I want you to know that I regret—"he paused—"what happened at Briarwood. I'm sorry about what I said. I was watching my father die and I felt I couldn't bear slowly losing someone else. I pushed you away because I just had to stop hurting. But I wish…" He sighed and then pressed his lips to hers in a lingering kiss.

Rissa blinked breathlessly at him as they drew apart.

He smiled crookedly at her. "We never did kiss goodbye."

"Me too," she stammered, her mouth finally catching up with her mind. "I mean, I still love you."

He grinned ruefully and then they were kissing again.

"Byrn," Rissa murmured, reluctantly pushing him away. "I love you. I missed you. But I'm still not sure I can—"

"So that part hasn't changed either," he muttered, his face still close against hers.

"I'm so sorry," she whispered and felt a sob rack her body.

"Shhh." He stroked her hair. "Sit and talk with me anyway." He gestured towards the nearest bench.

She managed a puzzled sniff.

"Please," he added. "We left so much unsaid."

She nodded, shivering, and did not protest when he pulled her into his cloak as they settled on the bench.

"Before we—"she swallowed. "About me and Berin…"she bit her lip. "Did you mean what you said back there?"

He sighed thoughtfully before answering. "It was meant to be a lie—the first part, I mean—obviously you are indisputably prettier than Berin—that's just a fact, by the way, don't count it as a compliment."

"Duly noted," Rissa murmured. "But the first part."

Byrn absently took one of her hands in his. "I've tried to care less," he said. "I've told myself that I can't expect you to just stay faithful to a bunch of memories…But I can't seem to stop myself from caring what happens to you. So, yes, I hated seeing him near you." He looked away. "I guess George was right," he added hoarsely, "the best lies are true."

Rissa swallowed in agreement. "Whatever you've heard, I didn't sleep—"

"I know," Byrn cut in. "You have better taste. Even if you had—"he squeezed her fingers so tightly she almost yelped—"it wouldn't be fair for me to hold it against you since I'll be marrying someone else."

"Who?" Rissa tried to keep her voice neutral and failed miserably.

"Do you really want to know?" he asked.

"No," Rissa admitted. "And it's not as though I can challenge her to a duel or anything."

"More's the pity," he muttered.

"But," Rissa whispered, echoing his words, "I can't seem to stop myself from caring what happens to you."

"Alright." He noticed that she was still shivering and wrapped an arm around her waist to pull her close, but resisted the impulse to kiss her. "To be honest, I haven't actually paid much attention to the raging debate—my aunts and uncles have all kinds of opinions to offer my mother, who nods politely at them but probably has an opinion of her own."

"And I doubt any of your relatives will be able to alter it," Rissa murmured. "She's always…How is she doing these days?" Rissa asked, to distract herself from the realization that she wouldn't have minded having Baroness Amicia as a mother-in-law.

Byrn sighed. "I don't think I ever quite appreciated how strong she was—I mean she's never let it stop her from doing whatever she thinks must be done, but I can tell that she really misses him. I think maybe she's only just realized that she might have loved him a little—I mean their marriage was arranged, but they were accustomed to one another—they got fond of each other over time. And now she's alone and…"

"It isn't easy," Rissa finished. "For either of you." She wrapped her fingers over his arm. "I should say something along the lines of 'hopefully you'll eventually grow that accustomed to your wi—"

"Don't," Byrn snapped. Then he silenced her with a brief, fierce kiss. "I have the real thing right now. I don't want anything less."

"Oh," Rissa murmured. "I know."

"Sometimes I think that if my father had…"He broke off, swallowing down a sob.

"Shhh." Rissa ran her fingers gently through his hair.

He pressed his forehead to her shoulder. "Enough about me," he muttered shakily. "Tell me about you."

"I don't want pretend with anyone else either," she whispered.

"I shouldn't be glad to hear that," he muttered, tracing a hand down her arm.

"But I think I should move on geographically." She drew a deep breath. "I'll be—maybe this will make things easier for you—I'll be leaving soon."

"Where to?"

"The desert," she said, deciding on the spot. "I might stay for a few years—give us both some space."

"Will you write?"

She swallowed. "If you want me to."

"No matter what…I'll need to know you're alright."

She nodded and kissed his cheek. "And will you write back?"

"Of course." He managed a smile. "I think I'll always love you. Even if it has to be from a distance."

"This isn't exactly," Rissa murmured. "I'm practically in your lap."

Byrn pulled her all the way into his lap and sighed against her shoulder. "I know. And I probably should…but it's not as if I've brought you back to my room…and I just." He bit his lip to keep from kissing her. "Tell me, why the desert?"

"For one thing, it'll be warm." Rissa smiled and settled back against him. "And for another, Alanna went there when she…" She let her eyes drift shut as she shared her plans with Byrn and listened to her murmured replies. He'd always been easy to talk to, to be around—it was why she'd fallen in love with him in the first place. And it seemed to do him good to take his mind off his own troubles.

_I'll leave everyone as they are for the next week or so of Real Life and we'll pick up again the next morning for the final (I think) chapter (before the really long and extra fluffy epilogue). As you might expect, there's plenty of drama still to come…_

"You're a fine one to be lecturing me about duty and marriage," Rissa shouted, "since you've been happily neglecting both of them."


	37. Exchanges

_Sorry about the delay in posting! I'm a little ambivalent about ending the story and I lingered quite a lot with this last chapter (and procrastinated by writing long chunks of the epilogue…)This chapter takes place just hours after the last one, in which midwinter was celebrated with varying degrees of gusto and Rissa and Byrn came to terms with one another. It contains characters and real estate belonging to Tamora Pierce. And, without further ado: _

It was nearly dawn before the midwinter festivities across the palace grounds drew to a close and light was actually beginning to break as various figures wandered back to their beds.

Strictly speaking, neither Vina nor Karyna managed to walk in a straight line down the knights' corridor. Karyna was quite sober—aside, she thought, from having inhaled the potent fumes of the celebrating Own and Riders (who had miraculously managed to enjoy each other's company while sustaining only relatively minimal brawling injuries)—but limping as exhaustion aggravated her recent injury. And Vina broke into a run when she spotted Rissa making a similarly late (or early) arrival at her own door.

"Happy midwinter!" She hugged her twin, glad to see that some of the unhappiness had left her eyes overnight. "Where have you been?"

"With Byrn." They'd spent the entire night talking in the garden, but Rissa managed to smile mischievously all the same. There had been a rather prolonged kiss goodnight (or possibly good morning).

"Oh." Vina smiled and quirked an eyebrow. "I thought he just wanted to apologize."

"He did and so did I. And then we realized we hadn't seen each other in months and we…I missed him," she admitted. "It was good to see him again and realize we both still—"

"I'm glad for you," Vina murmured. "But is that wise?"

Rissa quirked her head, wondering what wisdom had to do with it.

"I mean—"Vina hesitated and then continued, speaking slowly, "if he's going to get engaged to someone else, then he should be…it won't be fair to her, or to him, or to you for the two of you to keep spending your nights together."

"It isn't as if we—"Rissa began angrily, but Vina put up a hand to stop her.

"It isn't any of my business, but I just think you should think about—"

"You're a fine one to be lecturing me about duty and marriage," Rissa shouted, glancing pointedly at Karyna as she caught up with them, "since you've been happily neglecting both of them—last night and for the last few years." Then she slammed her just-opened door shut and stormed off down the corridor.

"How can you—"Vina yelled.

Karyna grabbed Vina's elbow to keep her from running after Rissa. "That wasn't about us; she's angry with the entire world right now."

"She—"Vina began angrily, but she was interrupted when Sir Keith, the young knight who lived across from her, opened his door just enough to stick his very disheveled head out.

"I don't care what you did last night or who you did it with," he mumbled, "just be quiet about it. Some of us have hangovers."

Vina blinked, trying to decide whether this was a show of annoyance or acceptance or both.

"I highly recommend Queenscove's vile-looking formula," Karyna informed him, "just try not to smell it before you've swallowed it and go before he's had enough tea to produce a proper lecture."

Keith actually nodded at both of them and muttered a groggy 'happy midwinter' as he started down the same way Rissa had disappeared.

Vina shut her eyes. "You were right." She sighed and dropped her head onto Karyna's shoulder. "I just want to fix things for her and she won't even listen to..."

"I know." Karyna kissed Vina's hair and ushered her into her room. "But nobody can magically make this right." She sighed. "It might seem marginally less impossible once you've had some sleep." She nudged Vina towards the bed. "Or at least that will give her time to take her anger out on someone else."

PDPD

"Hey," Dalton murmured, nudging Penelope because he could tell from the slight movement her cheek that she was not asleep. "Happy midwinter."

Penelope smiled and kissed him without opening her eyes. "I'd forgotten."

"You tend to do that." Dalton traced his thumb along her collarbone.

She blinked sleepily at him and lifted a hand to tangle her fingers through his. "I had other things on my mind." She pulled their hands down to rest above her navel.

"Such as?" He pressed his nose to her cheek, chuckling when the cold made her wince.

"Godsparents." She pressed her own icy nose to his shoulder in retaliation. "Cradles. Safe and tiny practice weapons for in a few years. And the fact that I don't know any lullabies."

Dalton kissed her temple. " We can ask Vina—I don't think Rissa is ready to—and Jeck."

"Jeck?" Penelope repeated. The idea hadn't occurred to her, but she found she rather liked it. He wasn't noble, but he was the kind of man she wanted in her daughter's life. And it might have the added advantage of raising a few eyebrows. "I suppose that way we get Selena and Karyna while we're at it."

Dalton nodded, grinning. "Also Jeck has a carpenter friend who can make a cradle for us. And where else are we going to get said small practice weapons?" He propped himself up on one elbow. "And as long as you use a soothing voice, drinking or marching songs will have the same effect as lullabies."

"Really?" Penelope raised a skeptical eyebrow.

"Actually, given the lyrics about babies falling out of trees—"Dalton shrugged—"drinking songs might really be more reassuring than lullabies."

"You seem to have all the answers," Penelope said. "So, I'm just going to dump her in your lap on the days when her favorite word is 'why'."

"I suppose I'd better come up with a reason for the sky to be blue," he muttered, kissing her once more before reluctantly sitting up. "And then there are names—"he began rummaging for clean clothes—"to choose and toys and—"he glanced from Penelope's face to Bandit's bemusedly wriggling tail—"I'm grinning like an idiot, aren't I?"

"Well," she said reasonably, "it is midwinter." And she was grinning much the same way.

PDPD

Rissa's legs carried her to the practice courts without consulting her exhausted mind. She was nearly there when she realized that she was wearing a dress (and still hadn't retrieved her cloak). She stamped her foot in irritation (which made her even more irritated because she was still wearing slippers) and then decided that she might as well grab a spare bow from the archery shed. Shooting at targets would be almost as satisfying as slicing up imaginary opponents.

She rounded the corner and found that Wyldon was already there, shooting with a breathtaking but unhurried efficiency that Rissa envied and knew she could never hope to match.

He nodded once at her, his eyebrow lifting almost imperceptibly at her costume, without altering his own shooting rhythm.

"Do you ever sleep?" she blurted.

"I plan to spend a great deal of time doing so after my death," he informed her. "And, meanwhile, at my age, I don't need or get much sleep."

"Oh," Rissa said.

"And at this point," Wyldon continued, "it's more a matter of self-preservation than self-discipline. My old bones need to move first thing in the morning if they're going to move at all." He fired his last arrow and then set his bow tidily on a nearby bench in order to appraise her.

"You, on the other hand, have come wanting to wear yourself out. It won't work. I mean, you will, in fact exhaust yourself (and probably develop sloppy habits in the process) without altering whatever worrying circumstances drove you here. And whoever you're avoiding will likely still be waiting." He sighed grudgingly before adding. "I would recommend a walk instead—you're too tired and unsettled to shoot straight."

"How would you know?" Rissa muttered, proving his point by demonstrating her inability to self-censure.

"One doesn't get to be my age without doing all sorts of stupid things."

"I understand that the impossible does happen on occasion" she said, her tone more polite now as she fell into step beside him. Disobeying him would be almost as impossible as imagining him doing something stupid.

"But only rarely—as I'm sure Selena would attest—in the marriages and romances of dutiful nobleborn sons and daughters." His voice was kind and matter-of-fact, but it left her in no doubt that he was referring to her own particular circumstances.

"I know." She swallowed. "And I'm not even dutiful. I don't deserve Byr—"

"You don't deserve your dilemma," Wyldon said. "You're living an instance of my original argument that women should not be trained for combat."

Rissa tensed. "I don't see how. It seems to be the only thing I'm good at—fighting with people."

"I mean that you seem to have no choice but to choose between being Byrn's wife—and fulfilling all the duties that would entail—and being a knight of the realm. It's a difficult decision and it appears to be having a demoralizing, not to say distracting, effect on you."

"That doesn't—" Rissa burst out.

"I have not made such an argument in years and I am not inclined to make it now. I am merely attempting to assess the situation." He frowned. "I fear you may not find the same happy compromise that Mindelan and Penelope have. Nor will you get the same rewards Selena has for shunning the role of a noble wife."

Rissa shrugged.

Wyldon shook his head to indicate that this was not an adequate response. "Well," he said, "report."

Then it was almost easy. "I love him," she said. "I love him so much that I'm not willing to risk resenting him later—for keeping me at Briarwood. And he—" she bit her lip—"I think he loves me enough to let me ride away."

"So long as you are not running away from what you feel for him," Wyldon said, a frighteningly perceptive expression on his face.

Rissa swallowed. "He understands that I'm avoiding Briarwood, not his company."

"I see," said Wyldon, in a tone that suggested he did see the difference between their two statements but wasn't planning to make further enquiries.

"Can I ask you—"Rissa began.

"I doubt I am the best person to be answering your questions," he said. "Penelope—"

"had it easy," Rissa said. "Dalton didn't make her chose. And Alanna already knows that nothing she says can change the situation." Rissa sighed. "Sorry. I'd like a favor, actually."

Wyldon raised an eyebrow.

"Will you see me off tomorrow morning?" she asked.

He frowned.

"I mean," Rissa said, "I know you'll be up anyway."

"Wouldn't you rather have Penelope or Vina—"

"It wouldn't work as well. I'll say the rest of my goodbyes tonight." She swallowed. "You're scary, sir. It will hold me accountable—I won't roll over and bury myself under the covers if I know you're waiting for me at the stables. And I won't turn around and back out if I know you've watched me leave for the desert."

"Very well, you have my word," he said slowly. "And my approval."

"I don't know what to say, sir." Rissa turned impulsively and pulled him into a tight hug.

"In my day," he informed her somewhat breathlessly, "a quiet thank you was generally sufficient."

PDPD

"Happy midwinter," Penelope said, shoving a box of biscuits at Neal.

"It isn't. It's early. The two are mutually exclusive and half the palace is hung over." Neal nibbled on a biscuit and found that it restored his faith in the universe. "So why aren't you sleeping in?"

Penelope shrugged cheerfully. "I guess I got tired of dreaming about giving birth to Spidren."

"Pen," Dalton muttered, thinking that at least this explained all her nocturnal rolling and kicking, "that's impossible—they hatch from eggs."

"That's not reassuring," she informed him.

"It is normal though," Neal said. "The dreaming, I mean, not the Spidren spawning, although for them it probably…" he trailed off under Penlope's glare. "Well, you probably have a very particular sense of what would be reassuring," he said. "So you should tell yourself that and then I'll add that you are going to bring a beautiful and completely human baby into the world."

Penelope shrugged, conceding the point, and took one of the biscuits she'd just given him.

"She might be cursed with rabid intelligence or an incurable sense of duty," Neal continued, "but I don't think anyone will blame her parents for—"

Dalton cleared his throat.

"… passing along such minor defects," Neal finished.

"But Neal," Penelope said, "we still need a name for her."

"And you're here because you think you can prise some suggestions out of me as a kind of midwinter gift?"

Penelope nodded. "Ignore the fact that I've eaten one of your bribes."

"You're quite forgiven," he said, gesturing magnanimously. "I'd advise against 'Horse Dung'. Also ' Ugly Lying Coward' and 'Treacherous Back Stabber'—those might lead to suicidal tendencies or a crippled sense of humor. But otherwise, I give you free imaginative rein. I'm sure you'll come up with something that sounds right."

"But," Dalton began, "there are so many possible wrong names."

"The already-stated obvious aside," Neal informed them, "you can't really name someone incorrectly because they'll grow into whatever you give them or fiddle with it until they find a nickname that fits. By the time she's four or so, you want be able to imagine calling her anything else."

"Which ought to be reassuring," Penelope said, "but really is all the more reason to come up with a good one."

Neal nodded, smirking. "Start at one end of the alphabet and work your way to the other," he advised, waving them away as his next patient entered.

PDPD

"Rissa, happy midwinter," Alanna called as Rissa was making her way off the practice courts.

Rissa turned, mustering up a smile. "Happy midwinter."

The older knight stepped closer and gripped Rissa's arm. "How are you?"

"Alright, I guess." Rissa glanced down at the previous evening's attire and shrugged. "I've decided to go to the desert."

"I think you'll learn a great deal there," Alanna told her. "I certainly did."

"I hope so. I'm leaving tomorrow." Rissa swallowed. The more people she told, the more real it was.

"Are you ready?" Alanna frowned slightly, as though giving Rissa permission to do the same.

"No," she admitted, "I won't ever be." She inhaled sharply, trying to will back the tears that were flooding her eyes and thickening her throat. "But I'm afraid that if I don't go now, I won't ever be able to." She scrubbed angrily at her eyes. "And I really can't stay and watch while—"She burst into tears and buried her head against the shoulder Alanna offered.

"Quite understandable," Alanna murmured, wrapping one hand over the back of Rissa's head as she searched unsuccessfully for a handkerchief with the other.

George seemed to melt out of the morning fog just long enough to offer them a handkerchief and a wry smile before darting back to the wall where he'd been leaning as he waited for Alanna.

"I'm sorry," Rissa muttered once she'd wiped her face dry. "I didn't mean to fall apart on you like that. I should be stro—"

"Rissa," Alanna said with the same gentle sternness Wyldon had used half an hour earlier. "Almost everyone falls apart on occasion. The people who don't are too weak to take any risks at all."

Rissa sighed. She'd never claimed not to be reckless.

"And strength is simply a matter of knowing how to pick up your pieces and being brave enough to put yourself back together."

"Right," Rissa muttered, surprising herself with a grim smile, "I'm going to need a broom and some serious adhesive."

"After much trial and error, I've determined that humor and determination work reasonably well." She clapped Rissa's shoulder, sending her on her way. "Midwinter luck," she added, "you'll need it."

PDPD

After years of attending midwinter gatherings in other peoples' rooms, Penelope felt almost as though she were breaking some unwritten rule in hosting her own. The afternoon, however, was not quite as peaceful as she'd hoped. Even Grania's quiet bustle over baby clothes could not mask the fact that Vina (who was letting out seams in some of Penelope's clothes) and Rissa (who was playing chess with Dalton) were unable to meet one another's eyes.

Still, things were comfortable enough until Arielle returned from the archery courts.

"Um," she announced hurriedly to the floor, "Byrn just proposed." She swallowed and sank gratefully into the chair Dalton offered. "I said I needed time to think," she stammered.

"What about?" Grania asked mildly.

Arielle blinked. "I'm not as good as you are at coming up with clever things to say, so I need time to come up with a tactful way of refusing."

Rissa, who'd been studying Bandit's cinnamon-colored fur as though it contained a thousand intricate patterns, slowly lifted her head. "If you're doing that for my sake—"

"It's for my own, actually," Arielle said quickly. "I realize I may not be able to marry a man I love or one who loves me. But at the very least, I'm determined not to marry one who is so obviously already in love with someone else."

Rissa swallowed, nodded, and lowered her head once more.

"Very sensible of you," Grania murmured. "So go regretfully inform him that the proposed match will be impossible under the present circumstances."

"Right." Arielle brightened and stood up. "Thanks." She turned and left.

"What was he thinking?" Dalton muttered.

Penelope cleared her throat amusedly and Grania scowled at him. "Aside from the fact that Arielle is beautiful and smart and kindhearted."

"Obviously." Dalton looked so endearingly sheepish that Penelope reached out to ruffle his hair.

"He knew I wouldn't want to be petty and vengeful towards your sister," Rissa said. "Maybe he even knew she'd say no." She sighed and glanced across the room, looking at her twin for the first time that afternoon. "Vina," she said slowly, "I'm sorry."

Vina drew her eyes from the tunic she was letting out for Penelope and smiled sadly. "I know. It was true, but you didn't mean it."

"You didn't deserve to hear it. Especially not in front of…"

"Karyna isn't avoiding you," Vina informed her. "She's visiting with her cousins this afternoon."

"Oh," Rissa said. "Can you help me pack later then? I'm leaving tomorrow."

Vina sighed. "Only if you come out to the practice courts with me and behave cheerfully."

Rissa nodded slowly, cracking a smile.

"Good," said Penelope, standing up and stretching. "Let's all go."

"Are you sure you're up for—"Vina began, but then she saw Dalton gesturing for her to continue at her own peril if she so desired and simply smiled gratefully at Penelope.

"I could certainly use a little fresh air," Grania added. "And Penelope ought to be able to manage anything I can."

PDPD

Arielle found Byrn exactly where she'd left him on the archery courts.

"An answer already?" he said by way of greeting.

"I thought fast," she admitted. "And I'm afraid I must extend my regrets—"

"Thanks." He grinned and waved away her polite excuse.

She blinked. "You're welcome."

He sighed. "I'm afraid my future fiancée won't be nearly so understanding."

She grimaced sympathetically. "My future suitors won't be nearly so honest."

"Well," he said gravely, "I wish you luck."

"You too," she murmured, lifting her bow as he turned to leave.

Then he turned back again. "Oh, by the way, I think you're shooting will improve if you lower your elbow just a touch." He reached over to adjust her stance. "There. Try that."

She did and found her aim far more accurate. But Byrn slipped away before she could thank him.

Sir Keith stopped Byrn on his way out. "Who was that?" he asked.

"Lady Arielle." Byrn smiled. "Dalton's sister. I can introduce you if you like."

"Didn't she just reject—"

"Honestly, there weren't any hard feelings." Byrn shrugged. "I should warn you, though, that girl knows exactly what she's aiming for."

Keith smiled. "All the more reason to offer her a good target."

PDPD

"Am I allowed to ask how you're feeling now?" Dalton murmured, slinging an arm around Penelope's shoulders as they started off the courts. Rissa and Vina had disappeared an hour earlier, but they'd lingered with Selena (who'd shown up with an invitation to dinner and stayed for some exercise) until dusk and Penelope was looking exhausted.

"You always are," she informed him. "I'll even answer honestly. I feel like I'm a page again."

"You do?"

"I'm frequently hungry, tired, cranky and sore, but generally enjoying life and looking forward to the future."

He kissed her cheek. "And you're still visiting Neal frequently and reporting to Mindelan. Change really is more of the same."

Penelope brushed her nose against his chin. "Someone ought to share that with the conservatives."

"Sorry," Selena said, catching up and overhearing the last bit, "none of them speak to me anymore."

"That must save time during the holiday season," Penelope muttered, "what did you do to—"

"Apparently I married Jeck in order to sleep with Jason."

Dalton blinked. "I would have done so much better in our philosophy classes if we'd been allowed to use logic that convoluted on our essays."

"What about Sara?" Penelope asked.

Selena shrugged. "The lower classes like their gossip a little more realistic. And it didn't stop her from kissing Jason after dinner."

"So they're still…"

Selena smiled. "It certainly took them a long time to clean up the kitchen last night and they wouldn't let us help."

Penelope raised an eyebrow. "And Jeck's still alright with them?"

"I don't think he has any other options at this point, but I think right now he's happy enough that he can't help being happy for them."

Dalton nodded, squeezing Penelope's elbow to remind her that what was happening to Rissa wasn't her responsibility.

PDPD

Rissa was busy rummaging in a chest, so Vina answered the knock at her door and found Byrn outside, carrying a saddlepack and studying his feet.

"I feel like we've done this before," Vina muttered, "you finding us packing, I mean."

Byrn managed to smile grimly. "It's been a few years." He shrugged. "And it didn't really take last time."

He hopes it won't take this time either, Vina realized.

"No," Rissa said, slowly getting to her feet. "But there's nothing like practice—as I imagine you explained to Arielle on the archery courts," she added, to show that she was trying not to mind.

Byrn shrugged again. "She caught on quickly."

Vina snorted softly, uncertain whether he meant Arielle or Rissa, and stepped out of Byrn's way.

"Anyway," Byrn said quickly, "I thought, while you were packing—"he offered the saddlepack to Rissa, who accepted it with a puzzled expression.

"It's mostly and most of yours…"

"You don't have to—"Rissa began.

"Yes." His smile was more of a grimace. "I do. But I should be going."

"Well," Vina said, scanning both their faces in an effort to determine whether they wanted to kiss or kill one another. "Happy midwinter," she murmured finally. Then she stepped over and pulled Byrn into a close hug, nestling her cheek against the wool of his tunic and offering him an excuse to hold Rissa the same way.

"Thanks," he whispered, kissing her cheek and releasing her so she could melt into the corner and continue folding clothes for Rissa.

Byrn held his arms out to Rissa, who studied him sadly.

"Happy midwinter," she repeated, rushing to bury her face against Byrn's shoulder, breathe his familiar smell, and feel his arms around her one last time.

"I know," he murmured, though she hadn't said aloud _I hate this, I'll miss you, at least let's make this our last goodbye, _or _I want to stop time. _"Here." He gathered her close and held her against his chest, tracing one hand over the back of her head.

_This is it, _she thought, lifting a hand to the tight muscles of his jaw. But neither of them moved for a long moment.

"Enjoy your adventures," he whispered. "I'll envy them." And then he was gone.

Rissa blinked and realized that the room had darkened considerably with the sunset. They'd been standing together that long.

PDPD

Vina gave Rissa a moment to collect herself after Byrn departed. Then she went to kneel beside the pack he'd left behind.

"What did he mean by mostly and most of yours?" she asked.

Rissa shrugged and opened the pack with shaking hands. Inside was the clothing she'd left after her last visit to Briarwood. Almost all of it anyway.

"He stole my scarf," she muttered, fondly irritated. It had been red and he'd liked the way it made her easy to spot in the woods.

And then she noticed that he'd also made a few additions, tucking in a sack of dried cherries, a tin of the almond biscuits she'd enjoyed at Briarwood, and a pair of socks she'd repeatedly borrowed from him during her stay. There was also a note wrapped around a beautifully crafted dagger (which she recognized as some of Jeck's best work).

_Rissa, _

_ I hope you'll agree that this is a fair exchange. I thought about sending a necklace, but decided this would generate less gossip and get more use in the long term. (Also, I admit, I don't think I want to give you unnecessary help attracting the interest of other men.) It might also prove very useful in the short term if you want to stab me (see you no longer hold the monopoly on morbidity) though this would probably generate a great deal of gossip, including possible Queenscovian diatribes on poetic irony. So please spare the palace population and my liver, gut, and kidneys (hearts being a lost cause for both of us). Don't bother asking Jeck how much I paid for the dagger, we have a gentleman's agreement and I know he'll keep it. As for Arielle—well, I had to at least try. Take care of yourself out there—I know you're quite capable of doing so—it's just a matter of motivation and application. _

_ Love, (no sense in lying about it)_

_ Byrn_

_ P.S. I hope I have written enough to oblige you to write back. _

Rissa snorted softly and tucked the letter into the logbook she was packing.

"Almost ready for supper at Selena's?" Vina murmured. She knew better than to ask about the letter.

"Almost," Rissa agreed, hurriedly scrawling a return message.

_Behave yourself—but not too well. Further missives to follow._

_ Love, thanks, etc. _

_ R_

PDPD

Afterwards, Rissa was able to enjoy the midwinter meal in the smithy. It would have been impossible not to.

Karyna surprised Vina at the doorway, which gave Jeck time to squeeze Rissa's elbow and mutter, "it was all his idea."

"I know," she whispered, "but your execution was amazing."

Jeck nodded, shrugged, and stepped back to Selena, wrapping an arm around her shoulders in a way that made Rissa feel suddenly alone. She glanced from Jeck and Selena to Penelope and Dalton (their heads bent together, murmuring and laughing, their eyes on the barely visible swell of Penelope's belly) to Sara and Jason (elbows brushing as they slipped lightly past one another beside the stove) and swallowed hard.

Then Vina lifted her head from Karyna's shoulder and caught her eye, which was meant to make her feel better, but only succeeded in making her feel guilty.

"Um, Karyna, about what I said this morning—"

The Rider waved easily at her, one arm still around Vina. "It's dead fish under the bridge. Don't keep poking at it, just let it wash away before it starts to smell."

Rissa nodded. The others were all too sensible to ask what she'd been apologizing for and Grania and Arielle arrived a few moments later, ending her sense of being the odd one out (even if Arielle wore a rather dreamy expression when she described Sir Keith).

Jason and Sara refused all offers of assistance in the kitchen, but still managed to fill the smithy with delightful smells and produce a veritable feast.

And when they sat down to eat it, Penelope surprised Rissa by toasting her upcoming journey.

Rissa swallowed in gratitude. "And I'd like to propose a toast to your daughter."

"Right," said Dalton, "then I suppose we'd better honor her future godsparents, Vina and Jeck."

The future godsparents blinked at one another in mild alarm as Neal stepped in, waved at Penelope, sized up the situation, and sat down between Sara and Arielle after deciding that they would be most likely to cooperate with his attempts to steal food from their plates.

"Well," Jeck said calmly, "we can't possibly refuse under these circumstances."

"I'm sure that was a factor in Dalton's spontaneous gesture," Neal remarked, "but it's scarcely a valid complaint as there aren't any circumstances under which you would refuse."

Vina nodded. "I supposed we'd better just soldier on then. So, despite his deviousness, I'd like to thank Dalton for giving years of guidance without judgment to his squires."

"And his sisters," Arielle added quietly.

"Who would also like to thank him for early years of entertaining gullibility," Grania put in.

Jeck grinned. "And I would like to toast Jason for years of food, advice, and assistance, and Sara, for showing up to keep him humble."

Sara blushed and Jason bowed. "And I propose a toast to Selena, who finally out-stubborned Jeck."

"At this rate," Neal interjected, "we aren't ever going to eat. Allow me to summarize."

Selena closed her mouth, smiling, and gestured for him to do so.

"To pluck, fortitude, and family." Neal raised his glass. "To the strong and the sweet, the smart and the sensible, and even the cynical among us. To warriors, wagerers, and walking romantic disasters. To new apprentices, old mentors, loyal friends, loving sisters, and faithful hounds." He ran his fingers over Bandit's and Shadow's ears. "There. I think I've covered everyone several times over."

Several minutes passed in silence and a large quantity of food disappeared before Penelope decided she wanted the last word.

"And to occasionally eloquent and not-yet-old philosophers."

_Except that it isn't quite the last word, only the end of the final chapter—we still have a massive and fluffy epilogue to come. And Neal will have plenty to add then, though he still might not get the last word…_

"Speaking of rules," Neal told them, " your child has a hopelessly muddled understanding of the laws of biological and noble inheritance."

"I know you're not technically my uncle. I could start calling you 'great uncle Neal' if you'd prefer."

_In the meantime, another round of thanks to the amazing people who read and review this story, especially the ones who've been regular for years—it wouldn't have happened without your encouragement. Good luck to everyone taking exams this week! And best wishes for whatever holidays you are celebrating this winter!_


	38. After All

_Greetings readers! I'm very sorry about my delay in posting this—I don't have any excuse except for the fact that I was very reluctant to part with these characters and I wanted to be sure I left them in the right place. (I know I've made this claim before and, as Byrn might say, 'it didn't really take last time'; so I'm still not sure whether I'm cured of my tendency to write into my epilogues.) I really do think this story is finished though—and I'm excited about continuing my dogged efforts to write and publish original fiction while pursuing a Ph.D. in the social sciences, but not sure that this will leave me much time for Fanfiction (or sleep). That said, I want to thank the amazingly steadfast reviewers who have inspired me to see this thing through—it's been epic and your encouragement was essential. Finally, this epilogue takes place about eight years (actually more like 7.5, but Neal hasn't been keeping a careful count) after the story last ended. It contains characters and themes belonging to Tamora Pierce and several long italicized flashbacks describing moments in the intervening years. Enjoy!_

Neal was in the stables, preparing for an afternoon ride when Penelope's family returned from their summer adventuring. They were in the midst of a lively debate regarding bedtime, which they resumed as soon as all three of them had dismounted to greet him with hugs and handshakes.

"Can I stay up until Aunt Rissa gets in?" Althea began unbuckling her girth as she bargained; she was fiercely independent when it came to the care of her pony. She glanced from one parent to another and then added, "please?"

"No," Penelope said. "She might very well be an entire day late."

"But—"Althea began.

"No butts." Penelope tapped her horse's rear, nudging him into a stall.

"Just noses." Dalton reached over to tweak his daughter's nose, which was a miniature replica of Penelope's.

Althea twitched this appendage at her parents. "You're so strict," she protested as she began to brush her pony.

Neal found this rather amusing. Penelope and Dalton were possibly the most lenient parents he knew—they generally encouraged their daughter to pursue whatever inclinations and aspirations she fancied, intervening only when serious injury or exhaustion seemed likely.

"You ought to learn understatement," Neal informed her. "It's far more effective than exaggeration."

She sighed with mock resignation. "Yes, uncle Neal."

"And in any case," Penelope added. "You need to have a few rules. How else will you learn to break them?"

Althea blinked and conceded this logic. "What about Aunt Karyna and Aunt Vina?"

Dalton grinned. These were possibly her favorites as Vina brought the best sweets and Karyna had given her a retired Rider pony. Though Althea had enough favorite relatives to populate a small village—Uncle Jeck was adored for the tiny practice weapons he provided, Aunt Sara baked her gingerbread centaurs, Grania sent clothing in all her favorite colors…

"They'll be here in time for our picnic tomorrow," Penelope assured her.

"Speaking of rules," Neal told them, " your child has a hopelessly muddled understanding of the laws of biological and noble inheritance."

Penelope shrugged. "But she's very clear on the principles of love and loyalty."

Althea turned to Neal. "I know you're not technically my uncle. I could start calling you 'great uncle Neal' if you'd prefer."

"Thank you, I would not," he said. "And she obviously has her mother's cheek."

"And her hair," Althea agreed. "But some people say I look more like my Da—I think that's only 'cause I have green eyes and I'm tall for my age."

This was true, Neal thought. But, at seven, she was still a little, wiry-muscled creature and Neal suspected that she would grow to be small and sturdy like her mother.

"And fortunately you have his ability to tactfully change the subject," Neal muttered, ruffling her hair and winking smugly at Penelope as she collected her gear and Althea's.

Dalton nodded in acknowledgement and scooped up his own bag, gesturing for them to precede him out of the stables.

Neal scowled and waved them off so that he could prepare for his ride in peace. But he couldn't help grinning when Penelope doubled back to hug him once more.

"You'll come with us tomorrow?" she asked.

"Of course. Aside from the possibility that I've missed my impertinent old protégée, I might very well be needed in a medical capacity."

Penelope raised an eyebrow.

Neal grinned. "You'll understand when you see Selena."

"I thought her baby wasn't due for another month."

"Remind her of that, would you?"

Penelope smiled. "She's not going to go into labor in your presence."

"That's the point. It's like bringing along an extra blanket to keep the weather from turning cold."

"Irrational preparation," Penelope intoned, paraphrasing something he'd told her years before, "is often our only defense against absolute chaos."

"Exactly," Neal agreed, nudging her off to follow her family.

PDPD

They reached the practice courts just in time to watch Tortall's youngest lady knight defeat the training master and then help her up.

"I can't believe she's earned her shield already," Dalton muttered.

Penelope nodded. "It seems like she was six just yesterday and now she looks exactly like her mother."

Their daughter was completely uninterested in such musings. She yelled Fira's name and then darted across the courts towards her.

"Thea!" Kefira grinned and scooped the girl up, spinning her around.

Kel followed her daughter at a more dignified pace. "I did beat her at round one," she said good-naturedly. She shook her head. "Just you wait until yours starts surpassing you."

Penelope smiled. "She already does at sewing." Althea had broken her leg while attempting to climb a tree the previous summer and Grania had taught her to sew in a desperate attempt to keep her quietly occupied during her recovery. To her parents' utter bemusement, Althea had taken to needlework with the same talent and enthusiasm she already demonstrated at swordwork. (Neal had remarked that this skill was probably born of sheer necessity, "just like Jason learned to cook because his mother couldn't".)

"So she's mastering weapons in a range of sizes," Kel observed.

"And some of the purely intellectual variety," Dalton added, trying not think of what George might have taught her during their last visit to the Swoop. Not that she was demonstrating such knowledge at the moment, given that she was laughing with absolute delight as Kefira set her down and pretended to collapse with dizziness.

Kel smiled at the two girls. "And dare I ask if she'll be joining…"

"If that's what she wants in three years," Penelope said, surprised by how bittersweet the prospect seemed. She'd never been away from Althea for more than a week's time—she and Dalton had decided not to have any more children in order to keep their family 'small and highly mobile' so that Althea could travel with them whenever it was safe for her to do so. And she had journeyed extensively from a very young age, taking naturally to the lifestyle of a knight errant.

"It probably will be," Dalton said, briefly running comforting fingers over Penelope's shoulder, "so long as her refusal to learn any musical instruments keeps her from running off with a troop of traveling players."

"Good. Hopefully there'll be one or two things left for me to teach her." Kel smiled and then hesitated a moment. "I know you've just gotten in and you'll want to get unpacking," she said, "but I've been doing some long term planning this week and I'd like a word with one of you at some point."

"Certainly," Penelope said, passing her bags to Dalton.

"Come on, Althea," Dalton called, offering her his hand as she skipped away from Kel's daughter, "let's go find Wyldon and see if he'll let us have Bandit back."

PDPD

Dalton had thought that his world had permanently changed the night he found Penelope vomiting behind the battlefield and heard her whisper that she might be pregnant. He'd thought so again when she caught his eyes across the practice courts and mouthed,_ I am. _And again when she'd dropped her scone in surprise the first time the baby kicked.

By the time Penelope shook him awake, hissing instructions to fetch Neal and shove some really strong tea down his throat, he'd realized that his daughter wasn't ever going to stop changing his life. This realization had been confirmed when Neal, muttering about 'accursedly robust lungs', deposited a just-cleaned-and-loudly-squalling-in-protest infant in his arms before turning around to tend to Penelope.

_ Dalton blinked into her already familiar eyes, kissed her tiny red forehead, and murmured shushing sounds until she blinked back at him in a puzzled way. Then he smiled at Penelope, who was exhausted and sweat-soaked but grinning back at him, and settled gently beside her on the bed so that the three of them were nestled together. _

_ "Good," Neal murmured. "Don't jostle her and don't let her even think about moving—there's still a slight risk of bleeding. I'm going to get some food and send word to Alanna, but I'll be back to fix your fingers in a few minutes."_

_ "Fingers?"_

_ "The ones she broke squeezing your hand during that last contraction." _

_ "Oh," Dalton muttered unconcernedly, shooing Neal away. _

_ Penelope quirked her lips sheepishly at him. _

_ Dalton shook his head and bent carefully around their daughter to kiss Penelope's nose. "She's beautiful." _

_ "That's because she takes after you."_

_ "I'll assume that was a compliment of the not entirely accurate or coherent variety." Dalton tucked a bit of hair behind Penelope's ear and ran his thumb over his daughter's cheek. "How are you feeling?"_

_ "Do you remember when I was crushed by a Hurrock around my seventeenth birthday?"_

_ Dalton nodded. _

_ "I've decided that wasn't so bad really."_

_ Dalton winced. _

_ "But she's so amazing I don't really care." _

_ "She is amazing—you're amazing." He brushed his nose over both their faces. "What do you want to call her?"_

_ "Don't make me think right now," she whispered, her eyes fixed on the baby's face. "I'm fine with any of the names we picked earlier." _

_ "Alright," he murmured. "I like 'Althea' best—it's pretty and practical." _

_ Penelope smiled. "And since it means 'healing herb' it sort of honors Neal without sounding sentimental about it." _

_ "Exactly." Dalton ran an awed finger over the tiny nose. "Althea it is." _

'Da' had been her first word (which was normal, Neal had explained, since it was an easier sound to make that 'Ma') and Dalton had suddenly thought it was the most beautiful sound in the world.

And then, after many more (mostly) pleasant surprises, there had been the afternoon he'd learned to braid hair. Althea had been five by the time Penelope had been willing to risk a mission away from the palace and her daughter; she'd plunged eagerly back into the duties of command, leaving Dalton with a somewhat bewildered child and her unruly tangles.

"_I miss Ma," Althea said, not quite whining, _ _as she tiptoed over to join him beside the window._

_ "Me too," he admitted, swallowing down a brief flash of worry as he lifted her to the ledge so that she could see better. "What shall we do with ourselves today?"_

_ Althea was still frowning as she watched birds gather and fight over breadcrumbs in the courtyard. "She forgot to braid my hair this morning."_

_ "Oh." Dalton scanned her hair as though it were the map of an enemy territory. "Right. I suppose we'd better see what we can do." He frowned. "How does she usually do it?"_

_ Althea blinked, on the verge of bewildered tears. "She just does." _

_ Dalton nodded and turned to offer her a piggyback ride. "Let's go find an expert then." _

_ Vina and Selena had accompanied Penelope, but Sara was in the smithy and she made a valiant attempt at explanation before Dalton's perplexed expression made her collapse in a giggling heap. Karyna put forth a similarly failed effort when Dalton brought Althea to the Rider barracks. _

_ Eventually, Dom spotted Dalton carting an increasingly bedraggled Althea across the courtyard and quietly suggested that he visit Wyldon. _

_ Wyldon raised one eyebrow at Dalton as he ushered then into his quarters but otherwise refrained from expressing any amusement. "It isn't so different from cross-stepping," he assured Dalton. Then he turned to Althea and said, "sit at attention please."_

_ Althea nodded and settled herself on Wyldon's footstool, remaining perfectly still (to Dalton's astonishment) as he combed her hair and sorted it into three groups. _

_ "Now." Wyldon beckoned Dalton. "Watch carefully." _

_ Dalton did. And by the time Penelope returned, he was almost as good as Wyldon as braiding hair. _

"Bandit," Althea called, pulling Dalton back to the present.

The old dog lifted his head off of Wyldon's lap and leapt off the bench, bounding towards her like a puppy. Althea laughed as Bandit licked her face and then knelt to rub his belly. Remembering herself, she jumped up once to kiss Wyldon's cheek and then darted back to her dog.

Dalton scratched Bandit's ears on his way to thank Wyldon, who calmly waved his gratitude away.

"It wasn't any work," Wyldon murmured, smiling as he watched Althea and Bandit tussle. "We're both about the same age by now and what we want is to sit in the sun and watch out for young ones running by."

Dalton smiled back. "You haven't learned to doze yet?"

"I'm afraid I've demonstrated a profound lack of aptitude," Wyldon admitted, allowing something like a twinkle to appear in his alert expression. "But Queenscove remains hopeful and often assures me that it isn't difficult."

"Well," said Dalton, "you know what they say about old dogs and new tricks." He took Althea's hand again and grinned at Wyldon. "It's a wildly inaccurate generalization."

PDPD

"I thought I might take this opportunity to secure the promise of a future favor," Kel said slowly.

"Anything," Penelope said easily.

"Are you sure about that?"

"Well, don't tell Neal—he'd get entirely too much pleasure out of critiquing my idiocy—but sure, within reason."

"Well, do you think you and Dalton might take another pair of squires in three years or so?"

Penelope nodded. So this was why she'd been asking about Althea's plans. "I think we very well might."

"And would you be willing to consider another set of twins?"

Penelope swallowed. There was only one set of twins among the current pages and they were Kel's. (They were also, Neal had once remarked, possibly the only children whose parents had been glad to see them reach puberty as this made it easier to tell them apart.)

"I believe the last set turned out reasonably well," Penelope said finally. "And, I'll need to discuss the matter with Dalton, but I think we'd both be honored to have an opportunity to repeat the experiment."

Kel nodded. "And it's an honor to have a former student trust me with her own daughter's education." Then she smiled. "But let's not get all weepy and demonstrative about it," she added, belying her words by pulling Penelope into a hug. "Now, I imagine yours needs a bath."

Penelope grinned and gave a mock salute before hurrying away.

PDPD

Althea woke the next morning to find Bandit curled beside her and a very familiar note on her pillow. Many variations of it had been left for her every morning since the day she'd learned to read.

_Good morning Brightness, _

_ We're on the practice courts. Bring Bandit out when you are ready for breakfast. Or grab your sword and some biscuits and come join us. _

The handwriting was her mother's, but this time her father had left a postscript.

_Aunt Rissa is with us and we have a bet going with (Great) Uncle Neal about whether or not she'll still be able to lift you without grunting—so please run right up and throw your arms around her and squeeze hard. _

PDPD

"Is there anything else to do?" Ben called.

Vina glanced over to be sure his ponies had been cared for. "Get out of here and get yourself something cold to drink."

Ben grinned cheekily. He was new to the Riders and had spent the summer adjusting to life in Tortall's most unconventional force. "You can't order us around just because you sleep with our Captain." This was mostly a joke, but there was still an edge to it and at the beginning of the summer he might actually have meant it.

"Actually," Alec—one of Karyna's most experienced Riders—cut in, "she's our accompanying knight commander—so she technically outranks our Captain during emergencies. And the rest of the time she's an honorary Rider—which has nothing to do with where she sleeps and everything to do with the number of pranks she's survived—"

"And planned," Jess, who'd joined the Tricksters and mostly given up thievery (with exceptions for adversaries who deserved it), added.

"and planned," Alec agreed. "So I would suggest that you follow her suggestions."

Ben grinned sheepishly. "Very well, Vina." He raised his hand in mock salute.

Vina saluted back—it was the first time he'd called her by name instead of using 'lady knight' as though it were an insult—and smiled when she saw him leaving to follow her instructions. Karyna winked at her and Vina nodded.

She was glad that they could finally laugh over the issue that had nearly driven them apart seven years before when Vina's deference to older knights (even when she knew more about the way the Riders worked) and her fear of stepping on Rider toes combined with Karyna's reluctance to cede responsibility for her Riders to anyone else had resulted in a leadership gap that had gotten several Riders and Vina's commander killed. Fueled by their own guilt and sparked by the snide remarks of a few older soldiers, they'd held a nasty shouting match in the stables as soon as they arrived home. Afterwards, Vina had fled to her former knight masters and found herself sobbing alongside a very colicky Althea.

_Althea had stopped wailing by the time Vina had finished explaining. This had nothing to do with her voice—it was because Penelope had finally found just the right swaying motion to soothe her. _

_ "There's a reason Riders and knights are sent together," Dalton murmured finally. "The two groups are supposed to integrate and use their different skills as a team. But they can't do that without communicating—and that goes both ways—and putting someone in control. And I'm sorry that Sir Locksley didn't do a better job, but you could have spoken up on the Riders' behalf or ordered them to close ranks faster once the battle got dicey._

_ "I know." Vina swallowed. "I just froze up and said nothing. But it's hard when you're stuck between someone who's supposed to be in command and someone you love."_

_ "Of course it is," Penelope agreed, gesturing for Dalton to check and see if Althea's eyes were still open. "But the solution is also simple. You just have to realize that there are rare occasions—emergencies, formal events, etcetera --when rank and rules really matter."_

_ "But they're not the basis for your relationship," Dalton added, stepping up beside Penelope, kissing her cheek, and shifting Althea into his arms so that Penelope could rest while he paced with the baby. _

_ "And the rest of the time," Penelope said, sitting beside Vina and offering her a handkerchief, "you relax and run on your own rules. And that means you argue occasionally and then apologize." _

_ "And Vina," Dalton whispered because Althea was asleep at last, "don't be afraid to speak up out there. You and Karyna know what you're doing and you don't tend to take unnecessary risks."_

_ "It might actually be easier once you're in command of missions and not just a middleman," Penelope agreed. _

_ Vina nodded gratefully._

_ "And just ignore the gossip," Dalton told her, "because if you can't, I'll have to kiss Karyna to give them all something else to talk about." _

_ Vina snorted, threatened to run away with Penelope if he did so, and waved goodnight. Then she walked sheepishly back to her own room and found Karyna sitting sheepishly beside her door. _

_ "Jeck said something fairly similar about rank," she admitted once they'd both apologized and discussed the situation more civilly over tea, "and Selena nodded vaguely between trips to the chamberpot—apparently she has midnight morning sickness—but Jason gave me love advice for the ages this evening." _

_ "Really?" Vina pressed a tentative kiss to Karyna's forehead. _

_ "He stuck his head out of Sara's room—that still startles Jeck a little—and whispered 'just don't be an idiot'." Karyna smiled and stood to help Vina clear the tea things. "Really, he's far wiser than the rest of us give him credit for."_

_ Vina grinned. "Well, we'll just have to work on avoiding idiocy then."_

They had come a long way since then, of course. Karyna had risen through the Rider ranks and Vina was frequently put in command of groups of knights. This meant that they were sometimes separated for long stretches, but they had plenty of joint missions and they'd generally managed to cobble together a shared life for themselves. Karyna was frequently teased for having sidestepped the rule against married Riders and the queen occasionally remarked that similar arrangements might be the key to smoothing relations between the Own and Riders.

"Hey," Karyna murmured, nudging Vina out of her reverie.

Vina grinned. "I just want to drop him—"she grabbed her horse by the halter—"in the knights' pasture and then we can meet everyone for lunch." She settled into a walk with her elbow just brushing Karyna's.

Then she came to a full and sudden stop just outside the pasture where she meant to release her horse. "That bay," she said, lifting a hand to point, "is he—"

"Byrn's," Karyna agreed, nudging Vina's horse into the pasture. "Definitely. Odd that he didn't write ahead to let anyone know he was coming."

"He's been a little odd since the spring," Vina said. She paused to check that the pasture gate was properly latched. "He kind of kissed me at his wife's funeral."

"He kind of kissed you?" Karyna repeated, gently elbowing Vina. "Like you're kind of adorable when you're worried I might be jealous?"

Vina shrugged, tucking herself neatly under Karyna's arm. "He was also kind of drunk." She swallowed. "But he still really misses her." She didn't mean his wife.

Kayrna nodded. "Well, it's been almost eight years." Years during which they'd often visited Byrn and his sons at Briarwood, but never with Rissa, who spent months on end in the desert.

"Rissa really misses him and she's just as responsible for avoiding him," Vina said. "They write each other with their whereabouts and then deliberately avoid each other. It's been a mutual thing."

"Of course. And they're both being idiots. Or maybe cowards." She squeezed Vina's shoulder. "Any chance he'll have the sense to show up at the picnic?"

Vina shook her head. "I'd guess he's at the palace on an errand for Briarwood. He won't go anywhere he isn't explicitly invited, which might be awkward for me to do since I'm not sure how much he remembers about the last time we…"

"I'll do it," Karyna offered.

"Would you?"

"The more he remembers, the easier it will be to bully him into it." She grinned rather wickedly. "Otherwise I'll have to rely on persuasive logic. It shouldn't take too long either way." She kissed Vina's cheek. "Just go distract your sister."

PDPD

"Wyl!" Althea yelled, catapulting herself off of Rissa's shoulders so that she could run to her best friend and his family, who were already laying out food for their picnic.

Wyldon's namesake was not even an entire year younger than Althea. In fact, Penelope remembered learning of his existence after rushing a three-week-old Althea to the infirmary so Neal could examine the red marks on her face.

_"It's a rash," Neal said immediately. _

_ "I know that," Penelope said, holding Althea out to him. "That's why we're here." _

_ Neal sighed and took the baby, grinning as her eyelids fluttered. "Of the common, garden variety—as far as monsters go, it's the equivalent of a squirrel." _

_ The worry eased from Penelope's face as she watched Neal with Althea, but she couldn't resist the opportunity to argue. "Squirrels skitter around staring at things with shiny, shiny eyes," she protested._

_ Neal rolled his eyes. "And they can carry rabies," she added._

_ "Point taken," he approved, kissing Althea's cheek. "But this really is an ordinary rash. Babies get them and we can't do much about them." He smiled at a noise Althea made in her sleep. "And," he added firmly, "it doesn't mean you've done anything wrong." _

_ Penelope blinked somewhat skeptically at this last statement. _

_ "Really," Neal said, handing Althea back to her, "you're doing beautifully with her." _

_ "I just…" Penelope trailed off. _

_ "If she's fussing," Neal added, "it's probably because she feels that you're worried about Dalton." _

_ Penelope swallowed. "He's only been gone a few days." Not that it had been easy having him leave—she felt far less safe than she'd ever felt when she was out in actual danger with him. "He's due back this afternoon, but—"_

_ "Why don't you wait here until he gets back?"_

_ "Could I?" she said, brightening. _

_ "Could you not ask again?" Neal ushered her to the cot nearest the window. "Sit. Stay. Doze." Bandit promptly jumped up on the cot to obey these commands beside Penelope. "And try to control your dog."_

_ "Who says I'm not?" Penelope murmured, draping her legs over Bandit and propping herself up on a pillow so that Althea could sleep froglike across her chest. _

_ "And Neal," she added a while later, "thanks." _

_ Then she drifted off, lost in the quiet rhythm of her daughter's breathing, and woke to the sound of the infirmary door opening and Dalton's voice. _

_ "Do you want me to get Jeck?"_

_ "No," Selena said, sitting hastily on the end of a cot and dropping her head between her knees, "it isn't as if it's an emergency." She lifted her head, shaking it slightly. "And it would terrify him if you showed up and told him I was in the infirmary. I can tell him later if—"_

_ "What are you doing here?" Dalton asked, rushing towards Penelope as he spotted her. _

_ "I'm scared of squirrels, according to Neal." Penelope scanned his face. "And you're here with her," she decided, satisfied that he wasn't concealing any pain. _

_ He nodded distractedly, his eyes fixed on Althea. "Can I—"_

_ Penelope smiled and sat up so that he could scoop the baby off of her. He paused to kiss her as he did so. _

_ "And she's…" Penelope studied Selena's absence of broken bones and bleeding (her only sign of injury appeared to be an old bandage on her left hand) and her exhausted posture. But it was the hopeful way she was watching Dalton and Althea that gave her away. _

_ "Possibly pregnant," Selena muttered, a smile ghosting across her lips._

_ "If Dalton noticed," Penelope informed her, "it's more like probably."_

_ "I wasn't the only new father on the mission," Dalton said, "and we all came to a consensus—as did all the Rider women with us."_

_ "Shhh!" Neal hissed. "You're starting to make me sound superfluous." _

_ "Everyone's so sure," Dalton continued, bouncing Althea lightly as she woke and made restless noises, "that there wasn't actually any betting about it." _

_ "Yes," Neal confirmed, "majority opinion is occasionally correct." _

_ "I suppose dashing out to be sick in the middle of planning a battle isn't exactly subtle," Selena mused. _

_ "Don't repeat the episode in here," Neal ordered. "Sit still while I brew you some tea for that." _

_ Dalton came to sit beside Penelope on the cot. "There was some betting about who the father is."_

_ Penelope raised an amused eyebrow. "And I suppose some of them were stupid enough to think you'd had the time and inclination—between sitting up with me and Althea for the past few months—to dash out and—she's drooling on your shirt, by the way." _

_ Dalton grinned at the patch of spit. "I don't care"—he squeezed Penelope's hand—"if you don't." _

_ "Of course, Dalton's rushing me home a few hours ahead and escorting me straight to the infirmary won't help matters," Selena mused._

_ Penelope shrugged and reached over to wipe a bit of drool from her daughters' chin. "Well," she murmured, "aren't you lucky? It's almost as if you already have a half sibling in the works?" _

And Wyl had been like a brother to Althea from the day the two of them were old enough to toddle into trouble together. Penelope had long since learned to check the smithy when she could not find Althea; then, if she didn't find both children endearingly underfoot (they had a knack for simultaneously begging Sara for sweets and poking about for interestingly-shaped scrap metal) Penelope and Selena knew it was time to begin a serious and thorough search for their children. They were inseparable (except when Althea left the palace) and learned most things—from swimming to riding and fighting—together. Penelope worried occasionally what Althea would make of the fact that Wyl couldn't become a page alongside her.

"Hey." Selena pulled Penelope into the best approximation of a hug that she could manage. "Do me a favor and don't ask how I am."

Penelope glanced back to appraise Neal's calculating stare and then grinned. "Done." She squeezed Jeck's shoulder and waved at Sara and Jason before turning her gaze to where Althea and Wyl were lifting Wyl's four-year-old brother, Jack, and swinging him by his arms and legs as he shrieked in delight. "I see your boys are still full of energy and where's—"

"Hello Da." The creature in question—a five-year-old girl with dusty brown curls and bright blue eyes—appeared at Dalton's side, tugging at his hand.

"And hello to you, Small Sara," Dalton said, overlooking her impish smile—she wasn't quite old enough to know just why some adults were disconcerted by her tendency to call Dalton (and Jeck and Jason) 'Da', but she liked the effect—and scooping her up onto his right hip.

"Goodness—look how you've grown," Penelope said, kissing Sara's cheek and then wiping a smudge of dirt from it.

Dalton smiled in agreement as he recalled the first time he'd lifted her.

_"Dalton," Karyna called, emerging from the smoking wreckage of the tiny village they'd been too late to save from rampaging bandits and disrupting the headcount he was making of his men. And reminding him how long it had been since he'd seen Vina_

_ He gritted his teeth against the sinking sensation in his stomach and started towards her. "Are all your Riders accounted for?"_

_ "Yes, but—"_

_ "Vina was—"_

_ "No, I mean, I know, but this one's…" _

_ Dalton followed her gaze to the basket in her arms and realized it contained a baby making soft about-to-be-unhappy noises. "Oh," he said. There hadn't been any other survivors, which meant that…_

_ Karyna gasped and thrust the basket at him before darting away. Dalton absently offered the baby, who smiled in a hopeful, timid way before wailing once, a finger to grab and watched with relief as the Rider reached Vina and clapped a field bandage to the profuse bleeding on her right arm. _

_ "Did that" Dalton began, " hit her old—"_

_ Karyna nodded grimly from behind Vina's back. _

_ "It's wide and shallow," Vina snapped. "It won't kill me." She bit her lip repentantly as the baby burst into loud and miserable tears. "Where'd you find the little one?" she asked, taking over applying pressure to her own wound._

_ "Under a clothes line." Karyna swallowed hard. "Beside the mother's body—she must have thrown a blanket over the basket to hide…" She turned away to be sick. _

_ "Sir," another knight called, hurrying towards Dalton, "we're only missing—'He stopped dead when he saw the squalling baby—"Mithros! What are you doing to do with it?"_

_ "Well," Karyna said, wiping her face on a sleeve, "we can't very well leave _it_"—she put a slight ironic emphasis on the word—"here". _

_ "So I suppose we'll have to take _it _home with us," Vina continued. _

_ "But we don't even know who it is," the newcomer protested._

_ "She"—Dalton put in with authority, having determined that soiled clothes were partly responsible for the current upset and decided a fresh blanket was required —"is an orphan, born in Tortall, aged approximately—"he lifted her gently to gauge her weight—"seven months, and currently under our escort and protection."_

_ "And a most charming little mascot," Jess put in, coming up to offer her a clean bandage to chew on. Several riders whistled in agreement and the baby was passed through at least a dozen arms during her journey, drawing smiles from hardened veterans and tough-talking rookies alike._

_ Dalton and Vina and Karyna had, for lack of any better solution, taken the baby with them to the smithy (where they suspected Penelope and Althea would be waiting up with Selena and baby Jack) upon their late arrival at the palace._

_ "How…what?" Penelope murmured, gently unwrapping Dalton's arms from around her waist as noticed the baby in Vina's arms. _

_ "Hmmm," Jeck agreed. _

_ "I would have thought Rissa would be more likely to show up at the doorstep with an unexplained baby," Jason muttered. _

_ Too tired to produce a witty reply, Vina shrugged, and passed the baby into Sara's arms so that she could lie down beside the hearth. _

_ "We found her in basket," Dalton explained. "Orphaned." He reached for Penelope's hand and ran his thumb over her knuckles. "And there weren't any relatives to take her in, so…"he shrugged, still not entirely sure what to do with the child now that they'd gotten her to safety. "She doesn't have any mysterious birthmarks," he added, "so I doubt she's the illegitimate daughter of a foreign prince who'll come claim her later." _

_ "Good to know," Jeck murmured, lifting a hand to stroke the baby's cheek. _

_ "Unless her tell-tale birthmark's been hidden by an enchantment," Jason speculated, wrapping a hand over Sara's shoulder as he studied the baby's face. _

_ "I'm not sure this one has fairy guardians looking after her," Karyna put in darkly. _

_ "I think she might," Penelope said quietly, glancing at Dalton. _

_ "She's healthy enough," Dalton said. "And we got some goat's milk for her on the road, but she'll still need—" _

_ "Right," Selena said calmly. She glanced once at Jeck, who nodded thoughtfully and came to take Jack from her. "Sara," she beckoned. _

_ Both the baby and Sara turned their heads. _

_ "Well," Jeck said, watching Sara hand the baby over, "I guess that's what we'll call her then."_

_ "Are you sure?" Dalton asked. _

_ "We'll add a 'small' to avoid confusion." Jeck grinned, glancing from one Sara to the other._

_ "But about—"_

_ "What's one more?" Selena murmured without taking her eyes from the baby. _

_ "And between the four of us here at the smithy," Sara added, "and all of the visits you make, she won't be much trouble." _

_ "Of course not," Jason added as he walked back towards the stove. "Who wants some stew?"_

_ Penelope lingered with Selena as the others stepped to the table and Dalton heard her say, "if you need anything—"_

_ "Althea's old clothes," Selena replied immediately. "And a little advice about what to tell her."_

And so Sara was being raised in the smithy as Selena and Jeck's daughter but Dalton sometimes thought it might be more accurate to add that she'd been adopted by an entire Rider group (members of which stopped by to play with her and left behind toys and clothing) and a large number of assorted knights (one of whom had willed her a rather substantial sum of money to be put 'towards a dowry or an apprenticeship—as the case might be) and enjoyed visits from the Wildmage and Numair (who had become attached for sentimental reasons).

He'd decided he didn't object when she called him 'Da'—she was only following Althea's example, he reasoned, and it had proven once and for all that Wyldon was capable of ironic eyebrow raising. But certain inveterate gossipers liked to speculate about her origins whenever fresh news ran dry.

"I'm going to have a sister," Sara informed him.

"Are you now?" Dalton grinned and glanced at Selena.

"According to Alanna, anyway, and we all know she's never been wrong." Selena smiled. "And then we're stopping while the scales are balanced and we can still fit them all in the smithy."

"She didn't tell us that," Jeck added cajolingly, wrapping a hand over Selena's arm as she sat beside him in the grass.

"Yes, well, perhaps I've had enough children to develop a little common sense."

"It's almost a shame," Neal put in, "you're so much easier than most expectant mothers. And your last two came at such convenient hours."

"See," Jeck said, "even he—"

"A sister," Rissa said to Sara, loudly enough to change the subject. "You're very lucky then. Sisters always know what to say—even if they're only teasing—and how to make you feel better—even—"Rissa drew a breath and glanced over her shoulder at Vina, who was rushing happily towards them.

"Especially," Vina corrected, throwing her arms around Rissa, "when they're teasing." She knocked Rissa to the ground, both of them giggling madly.

Vina felt just a hitch of doubt as Rissa helped her to her feet. Her twin was so happy and at ease and it had taken her a few years to make this peace with herself. What if encountering Byrn only undid all of that? What if Rissa's moving on had made it painful or impossible for her to look back?

_ It's also for his sake, _Vina reminded herself, tugging Rissa close for another hug._ And after all those letters…_

PDPD

Sara was the second person Vina hugged after she and Rissa had disentangled themselves. (Bandit and Shadow having already taken advantage of her low altitude to lick her face.) Then she found herself making a large circuit to greet all of her old friends.

"So," Jason asked, grinning impudently, "where's your other prettier half?"

"Blackmailing a married man," Vina said, so lightly that everyone assumed Karyna was simply finishing up some Rider business. "She'll be here in a bit, but she said to go ahead and start eating if the kids are hungry."

"Good," Neal said, lunging for a basket. Sara had run off to join the other children and all four of them were playing contentedly.

"Quite," Selena said, tossing a loaf of bread to Penelope for cutting as she startled to slice a slab of cheese. Dalton meanwhile passed around the meat pies and bit thoughtfully into one. Sara and Jason had done a very thorough job—perhaps he ought to start having them plan food for knights' expeditions…

PDPD

"How have you been Rissa?" Penelope asked, passing a plum to Dalton before collecting one for herself. The children had already rushed in to eat and then rushed off to play again.

"I've been wondering how you always manage to make that sound like 'why aren't you married yet?"

"We just don't like seeing you alone," Jason said. He was stretched out across the grass with his head in Sara's lap.

"I'm not lonely."

"They worry," Neal said, as though he were to dignified to share in this pursuit. "And there haven't been any interesting rumors in the last few years."

Rissa shrugged. "I don't sleep with braggarts or married men."

"Really?" Penelope said, putting aside her plate and settling back against Dalton's chest. "That probably eliminates most of the population. Who is left?"

"Tobe said he saw her with Keith's cousin—Kyle was it?—last spring," Neal remarked.

"Kevin," Karyna corrected, catching Vina's eyes just long enough to blink affirmatively upon her arrival. She grinned as Jeck pulled her into a bear hug and offered her a plate of food and then sat cross-legged beside Vina to eat.

"Kevin." Rissa nodded; she knew better than to attempt to change the subject. "We're friends and we were the only knights under forty at the border. Also we're evenly matched at chess. So we spent most evenings together." She shrugged. "I imagine he'll be announcing an engagement in a year or two."

"Rissa," Vina put in, "if you want—"

"I had a brief fling with Alec a few years back," Rissa reminded her.

"Right," Karyna muttered, "that was when Luke knocked on my office door to ask if I knew that Vina was dragging one of my Riders into the woods."

"Oh," Rissa said. "I'm sorry—I didn't think of—I hope I didn't—"

"No harm done," Vina assured her.

"Though," Karyna put in, "it might have taken a few years off his life when Vina pulled her head out of the trunk she was organizing to thank him for his concern."

"Vina!" Penelope admonished.

She blinked unrepentantly. "It seemed only polite."

"And it's is easier to tell them apart now," Dalton muttered, exchanging a dark look with Karyna as they both remembered the morning when they'd been almost too late to rescue Vina from the bandits who'd briefly taken her hostage at knifepoint.

"Oh this," Vina said lightly, fingering the scar on her neck. "It just impresses all the pretty girls."

"With your reckless stupidity and—" Karyna began.

"One way or another," Vina added smugly, ending the Rider's diatribe with a brief kiss.

"Someone's coming," Wyl called.

Penelope lifted her head lazily from Dalton's shoulder in time to see her daughter dash towards the approaching figure.

"It's Byrn," Althea called.

Rissa straightened in alarm, eyeing the nearest trees as though she were considering a dash for the woods and then fixing Penelope with a betrayed gaze.

"We've visited," Penelope said quietly. "But I didn't even know he was here. Briarwood is near Proudcreek and his children are almost Althea's age."

Rissa nodded. "I heard she convinced them all to sneak out into the orchard last time you were there." That had been in Byrn's second-to-last letter. The last had come after his wife's death and she'd had to burn it because she couldn't bear seeing how much he'd loved his wife or how much pain her death had caused him. She'd also burned the letter announcing his marriage. But she'd kept the rest. Not that either of them had sent any letters since the spring.

"They were easily persuaded accomplices," Penelope said, squeezing Rissa's shoulder. Rissa wasn't sure whether this was to comfort her or to keep her from running off.

Rissa forced a smile as she watched Byrn squat to shake Althea's hand and allow her to introduce Wyl. "I would never accuse your daughter of instigating."

Dalton shook his head. "Somebody should."

"That's what I'm here for," Neal said in a long-suffering way, "bestowing blame and cleaning up afterwards."

But Rissa wasn't listening to him. She was too busy watching Byrn while convincing herself that she just happened to be gazing in his general direction.

PDPD

Byrn passed through a flurry of handshakes and hellos that landed him before Vina.

Sara had the sympathetic good sense to summon the children (not to mention the rest of them) for distracting biscuits when it became clear that theirs wouldn't be a simple handshake.

"Erm," he murmured, studying Vina's face. Aside from the faint scar, she looked exactly as Rissa had eight years before. The resemblance had driven him to kiss her months before and it was still unnerving him now. "I—"he tried to explain, wishing Vina's eyes could tell him how Rissa felt.

"I know." Vina pressed her lips very briefly to his cheek.

"Am I forgiven then?" he asked, braving a quick glance at Karyna, who was working so hard to stifle a laugh that she was in danger of choking on her biscuit.

"We're good," Vina whispered. "But you'll have to ask her."

Byrn nodded and walked slowly towards Rissa. Her skin was slightly darker than he remembered, having been tanned in the desert, and her hair was dark and bright in the sun. He stopped a few steps away and drew a long breath before speaking.

"I wasn't ignoring you, I just didn't know what to say."

She nodded, offering him her hand. She could think of several things to say, but had no idea which needed to come first. It seemed that they'd already written everything important.

He lifted her fingers and kissed them cautiously.

"Byrn," she snapped. "I'm not breakable."

He tilted his head, sizing her up. "Right," he murmured, "where were we?" Then, without giving her time to answer, he pulled her close and kissed her.

PDPD

Althea tugged on Vina's wrist several minutes later.

"Byrn's still kissing Aunt Rissa. What does that mean?"

"It means you should go help Selena count out the coins she owes your Da."

Karyna smirked. "There's interest on that bet. It'll be quite the introduction to higher level math."

"Dalton," Selena said pleadingly, "I have children to feed."

"Discuss that with Jeck, since the palace seems to have finally conceded that they are his progeny and not mine." This dawn of reason had been aided considerably by the fact that both of Selena's boys had Jeck's blue eyes and powerful build. "And in any case," Dalton added, "I have godschildren to spoil."

Penelope glanced back to see that Rissa and Byrn were still kissing, though their hands had migrated from shoulders to waists.

"Those must have been some letters," she remarked.

PDPD

"Come with me," Byrn said, taking Rissa's hand.

"Byrn, it's been—"

"Eight years. I can count." He grinned as she shrugged and fell into step beside him. "And by my count, we're about even on apologies and such. So…"

Rissa smiled and turned tilted her face to be kissed even though she wasn't sure he'd made a full argument for picking up where they'd left off. It simply wouldn't be possible. Too much had happened to both of them since…

"Um," she said. "I haven't told you yet how sorry I am for your loss." She squeezed his fingers. "I know this spring was difficult for you."

"I loved her," he said in a rush. "In the beginning, I told myself I couldn't possibly…but we got used to one another—I got used to missing you—we had children together, and then she was gone and I had this gaping hole." He swallowed. "Right across from the one you'd left."

Rissa stayed silent, unable to think of anything useful to say. Byrn stopped suddenly to study her face.

"Sorry," he said. "I shouldn't have—I didn't mean to make you feel guilty or replaced."

"No," Rissa said. "It's alright. I mean it isn't alright for either of us, but it's okay that it isn't." She shook her head. "I never stopped missing you, but I shared a tent with a tribesman for a few seasons."

Byrn didn't seem surprised. "It was that 'he's also a twin, and rather handsome' fellow you wrote me about, wasn't it?" he said, beginning to walk again.

Rissa nodded.

"Well, why aren't you still in the desert?"

"We—neither of us handled it well when his twin was killed. And—"she swallowed—"he wasn't you."

Byrn nodded and let her wipe her face on his sleeve. Then they walked in silence for a stretch. He raised an eyebrow when they reached the creek and they both knelt to take off their boots and roll up their trousers before wading in up to their knees.

"Byrn?" She murmured his name and touched his shoulder just to prove to herself that he was actually there. She carried his image in her heart for so long, writing him letters and imagining the sound of his voice, that it was hard to trust that he wasn't a dream.

"Rissa." He laced his fingers through hers.

"I'm glad you showed up today."

"You owe Vina one then." Byrn frowned as he studied her face. "But what?"

"But what are we going to do now?"

"Walk a little ways and then turn around and go back for biscuits," Byrn said easily.

Rissa splashed him in exasperation. "I mean about us."

"Is there an us then?" He wiped his wet arm on the back of her shirt.

"There always has been."

PDPD

The children's playful noise faded happily into the distance and Selena, who hadn't had a full night's rest in months, was the first to fall asleep. Jeck, who had found himself commandeered as her pillow, quickly followed suit. Neal, who prided himself on his expertise in afternoon naps, expressed the opinion that it would be criminal to disturb their rest and heroically joined them, his snores harmonizing pleasantly with Bandit's and Shadow's.

Jason and Sara were not quite asleep, but they lay on their sides, facing one another and conversing seriously about the future of the smithy or possibly what they ought to cook for breakfast the next morning. Their indistinct murmuring, Neal's example, and the afternoon sunlight all affected Penelope. She nudged Dalton further back against the tree and settled her head on his chest, closing her eyes, but not to sleep. She knew better than to miss an opportunity to appreciate being safe and warm and at peace. Still, she couldn't help wondering dimly what Rissa and Byrn were up to.

Karyna muttered that she'd negotiated a peaceful surrender to her full stomach and stretched out with her head in Vina's lap. She was one of those fortunate individuals with the ability to fall asleep almost instantaneously and under any circumstances.

Vina settled her own head against the back of the tree behind her and ran her fingers through Karyna's hair. She looked up to find Dalton that Dalton had draped one hand thoughtfully over Penelope's elbow and was watching her with a suspicious expression. He raised one eyebrow and tilted his head in the direction Rissa and Byrn had gone.

"It wasn't all my doing," she admitted, "but I'm willing to accept full responsibility for the consequences." She frowned. "Even if we've made a mistake and it doesn't end well."

"You, lady knight, seem to have grown into a shrewd, conniving romantic with a big, wise heart and an incurable tendency to interfere."

"Well, sir, I learned from the best." She inclined her head towards him. "Or the worst. As the case may be."

Penelope snorted softly and brushed her nose against Dalton's ribs.

"I just hope they can—"Vina began worriedly.

"Don't worry," Dalton said.

"He's banking on it," Penelope added smugly, wondering just when she'd taken on this wise old matriarch role.

PDPD

"I know." Byrn swallowed. "And I have absolutely no idea. We can't exactly start from scratch."

Rissa nodded. "On the bright side, I've had time—a whole eight years of it—and you have your heirs now."

"I'm a widower with children," Byrn muttered, as though just realizing these facts for himself. "And you're a warrior nomad. When was the last time you stayed in the same place for more than a month?"

Rissa gave a not-quite-guilty shrug. "If moving tents don't count, then three years ago." She shook her head, smiling in spite of herself. "I think. The palace is the place I come back to whenever... I haven't been home since Vina told our parents why she wasn't marrying—"

"I heard that was a festive occasion."

Rissa grimaced. "And then mother looked pointedly at me and said that at least Vina had a good reason and what was my excuse."

Byrn nodded sagely. "There's this innate urge to oversee the production of grandchildren. They really can't help themselves."

"I suppose not," Rissa said sadly. "Where were we?"

Byrn shrugged. "It doesn't matter. We can't exactly pick up where we left off either."

"At goodbye and good luck?" Rissa grinned. "I should think not."

"I don't know," he said mischievously. "It took pretty well last time."

"All the more reason to try something different now—we don't want to make things too easy for ourselves."

"I've missed this," Byrn said, meaning their old, easy banter. "I've missed you." He pulled her suddenly close and buried his nose in her hair.

"Me too," Rissa said thickly, hugging him back.

"Right," Byrn said bluntly, "we still love one another even if we are different people now. We just have to take things as they come from here. We're old and wise enough now not to rush into anything." He followed this statement with a kiss that completely belied it.

"Right," Rissa murmured, grinning as they pulled apart. "Worth a try anyway." Then she bent and splashed a little water on her face. "Tell me about your sons. I want to hear…happiness in your voice."

"Are you sure you don't mind hearing about what you haven't had?"

"Byrn." She tucked her hand through his elbow. "I can love them for your sake because they didn't keep me from my own life. I don't have regrets."

Byrn flinched, but nodded.

Rissa swallowed, realizing that what she'd said sounded harsh and it wasn't quite true. She wanted him to know that she didn't blame him for any of what had happened between them. "I mean, I've often looked back and thought what if, but… I've been free. It was difficult, missing you, but I would do it all over again. And I'd be horrified if you didn't adore your children and terribly sad for you if you hadn't loved their mother." She bit back a small current of jealousy, distracting herself by kissing Byrn's chin. "And we haven't written each other in months so I want to hear about your latest adventures."

Byrn nodded, tugging her a little closer. "They're six and four and so full of energy…" The quiet pride in his words help carry his voice over the running water and Rissa lowered his head companionably to his shoulder as she listened to him recount their first horseback riding lesson and latest least favorite vegetables. "And I imagine my mother is spoiling them silly back at Briarwood," he said eventually.

"They must remind her of you."

Byrn grinned. "Enough that she used to complain bitterly about the lack of granddaughters." His voice tightened on the last word and Rissa squeezed his arm comfortingly. "Though she hasn't given up hope entirely," he added.

_Nor should you. _The words Rissa thought she might want to say were frozen in her throat, but Byrn seemed to hear them in the catch of her breath and wrapped both arms around her for a long while.

"We should probably go retrieve our boots," he said, clearly wanting to make her comfortable again.

"Right," Rissa said, and they spun together to wade back up the creek. "What do you want to hear from me?"

Byrn thought a moment. "Tell me what you learned in the desert that's left you feeling even stronger than the last time I held you."

Rissa laughed and started cataloging the training exercises she'd picked up during her travels. He listened attentively, but occasionally kissed her when she stepped close to demonstrate.

They had to declare a truce in order to tie their shoes and then noticed that they had an audience in the form of Althea, Wyl, Jack, and Sara.

"Are you going to kiss again?" Jack asked, preparing to cover his eyes.

"No, not just presently," Byrn said easily. Then his parental instincts were triggered when he noticed that they were all carrying buckets. "What are you doing out here?"

Sara and Jack shuffled nervously behind Wyl, but Althea (who knew very well when it would be useless to exercise the sense of discretion she'd inherited from her father and best to follow her mother's audacious example) stepped forward with an honest answer.

"We're getting ice cold creek water to attack our parents with and wake them up."

"Want to help us?" Wyl added appealingly.

Byrn surveyed the buckets and the grinning children who held them and then glanced back at Rissa. "I'm game if you are."

"Of course." Rissa grabbed a bucket from Wyl and stooped to fill it. "I couldn't pass up the opportunity to offer my old knight masters a little cold wet revenge."

"Entirely undeserved on their part I'm sure," Byrn muttered, filling the smallest bucket halfway and handing this manageable weight to Jack. "It'll be just like old times."

"Only we won't have to offer an account of our actions to Wyldon and Mindelan afterwards." Rissa filled two buckets for herself and started following the children. Then she remembered something Penelope had once told her about cold water and forced herself to speak before she lost her nerve. "And Byrn, I know we weren't going to rush—"

He shot her a don't-beat-around-the-bush smirk.

"What would you think if I were considering wintering at Briarwood?"

The full buckets in Byrn's hands kept him from making an expansive gesture. "You've always been welcome. You know that. Your sister comes often enough."

"It would have been awkward for your wife," Rissa pointed out.

"I know." Byrn sighed. "Even if—it wouldn't have been fair. I wouldn't have wanted to be responsible for hurting her."

"Nor I," Rissa agreed, pleasantly surprised to find that her voice held no trace of regret. "And then your sons and your mother wouldn't want—"

"Actually, she still rather approves of you."

"Really?"

"She told me so in no uncertain terms right after Maria's funeral when she caught me kissing Vina."

"Caught you what? Vina?" Rissa nearly spilled both buckets in surprise as she glanced back at Byrn. "And are you blushing?"

"Shit," he croaked. "You really don't tell each other _everything. _And it wasn't her idea."

"Language," Sara chided, her tone an exact replica of the one Selena used to scold Jeck and Jason.

"Don't make so much noise," Althea ordered all of them as they neared the edge of the trees. "You'll give us away."

"Sorry," Byrn whispered, shooting Rissa an I'll-atone-and-explain-and-allow-you-mock-me-later look that had her doubling over in silent laughter.

PDPD

Their attack began as the sudden success that Althea had envisioned. Every adult got a good splashing and uncle Neal made very satisfyingly indignant sputtering sounds. Unfortunately she'd forgotten to factor in the battle training (not to mention experience in parenting, teaching, or healing) of her intended victims. They quickly leapt to their feet and turned the tables, tickling their erstwhile attackers as they carted them back to the creek's swimming hole.

Althea's mother carried her straight into the water for a gentle dunking. Aunt Rissa (who had traitorously switched sides) tossed Wyl in and then jumped in after him to be sure he didn't drown. Aunt Vina followed her and then gamely allowed all four children to gang up and dunk her. By the time they'd managed it, everyone was in the water, even uncle Neal—Byrn hadn't switched sides and was responsible for this last addition.

PDPD

It was sunset by the time they left the creek; they children warmed up by running back to the picnic blankets, but there parents followed at a more dignified pace and Penelope shivered slightly in her wet clothes.

Dalton shook his head fondly and wrapped an arm over her shoulders. "You just can't resist can you?"

"What?" Penelope turned and poked his neck with her wet nose, her eyes maintaining an expression of perfect innocence. "Water?" She slowed their pace so that they fell behind the others. "Opportunities to be impulsive—"

"and cold"—he kissed her temple—"and wet"—he kissed her cheek and wrapped his other arm around her.

"Why shouldn't I be?" she asked, turning to face him fully. "I have you to warm me up." Her last words were muffled by his kiss. "See?"

"And incorrigible," he added tenderly, tracing her cheek with his thumb.

She nodded and took his hand, both of them trotting to catch the others.

Jeck lifted one tired son in each arm for the long walk to the smithy and Karyna tossed small Sara onto her back.

"I'm still far lighter than armor," Althea reminded Dalton, who grinned and reached for her.

Penelope caught Rissa's arm in an almost casual grip as they were packing up the baskets. "Already looking forward to your next adventure?"

"Very much so," Rissa murmured without taking her eyes off Byrn. "And you?"

Penelope smiled at Dalton as he lifted Althea onto his shoulders. "Always."


End file.
